


The Long Game

by Roguefemme



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, some violence but no worse than the movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roguefemme/pseuds/Roguefemme
Summary: Follow-up to Two Steps Ahead. Commander Thrawn has settled into teaching at the Academy, but there are forces at work that even a brilliant mind like his cannot anticipate. Hate has power, but sometimes true loyalty endures it.





	1. "If you'll have it,""

**Author's Note:**

> I've been waffling over this for a while but if I waited until I was happy with it I'd probably never post it. Part of what inspired this was discussions of racism/xenophobia in the Empire and how much Thrawn might have been affected by enduring it.
> 
> Dramatis Personae:  
> Commander Thrawn - Chiss male  
> Cadet Nataya Rabor - human (Daralhan) female  
> Cadet Pelli Sheplin - human (Corellian) female  
> Cadet Nava Jing - human (Coruscanti) female  
> Cadet Isamu Li Anek - human male from Outer Rim  
> Cadet Pzandor Jastrinas - human male from Inner Rim  
> Commandant Arrel - human female Imperial officer  
> Master Sergeant Dogma - human (clone) male Imperial non-commissioned officer

    "Nati! Hsst! Nati!" someone hissed from not far off, and Cadet Nataya Rabor looked around to see her best friend at the Academy, Cadet Pelli Sheplin, gesturing to her from behind a tree. The little copse of trees near the center of Imperial Academy campus was one of the few bits of cover where friends of different genders could informally gather, and the small group of third-year cadets known as "Thrawn's crew" made free use of it. "Come on, there's some news you gotta hear!"  
  
    "Pelli, I need to study!" Rabor protested. "I don't have time to gossip!"  
  
    "Pzandor swears you'll like this," Sheplin disagreed. "Come on, he won't tell us until everyone is here!"  
  
    That prompted a curious lift of Rabor's eyebrows; their friend Cadet Pzandor Jastrinas was not someone given to gossiping.  
  
    "All right, fine," she grumbled reluctantly, glanced around to make sure no officers were watching, and then hurried into the trees where her friends already sat in a small circle. "So what is this news I need to hear?" she queried as she sat down and leaned back against a tree, though not before checking to make sure there was nothing on it that might muss her spotless uniform.  
  
    Jastrinas, who already had the other cadets' attention, gave a small, playful grin. "Well, you know I have been working in the administrative office," he began in his quiet, melodiously-accented voice. Rabor and the others nodded. "Weeelll," he drew it out with obvious relish at being the center of their attention. "I happened to see the separation file of one Tyber Zann."  
  
    "Oooh, what'd he get kicked out for?" Sheplin asked gleefully. Zann had aggravated each of them with his bullying, bigotry, and other unpleasant behaviours, so they had all been gratified to learn of his abrupt expulsion from the Academy.  
  
    "That was not specified, sadly," Jastrinas answered, to his classmates' disappointment, "but I did see the name of the officer who signed off on his dismissal."  
  
    "Oh?" Rabor straightened, now looking more interested. "Who?"  
  
    "Bright Eyes himself," Jastrinas informed them, and grinned at their startled reactions to the news. The cadets never used the affectionately given nickname in their teachers' hearing, of course, but they all knew which instructor fit both the literal and figurative descriptions of the term.  
  
    " _Commander Thrawn?_ " Sheplin squeaked, barely lowering her voice in time. "Oh stars, talk about poetic justice! I _knew_ he'd find out about Zann's human-supremacist crap."  
  
    "That makes sense though," Rabor added thoughtfully, "He never seemed to buy Zann's 'model cadet' act. And if anyone could find out what the foul little skink was up to on the side, it would be Commander Thrawn."  
  
    "Don't hold back, Nat, tell us how you really feel," drawled Cadet Isamu Li Anek teasingly from across the circle, where he lay in a casual semi-sprawl against a tree. Anek's parents had been "free traders" for years before settling on an Imperial world. As a result Li's piloting skills were astonishing, but he never seemed entirely suited to the polish of the Imperial Academy and always managed to look and sound slightly disreputable.  
  
    "I'm serious, I'll bet a year's pay that it was worse than standard rule-breaking." Rabor scowled in honor of the ex-cadet. "He wasn't sneaking out of those bases just to sample the night life. I'd love to know what he was up to here that got him booted."  
  
    "I've just got one question," drawled Cadet Nava Jing, who had been quiet up until then. When she had their attention she smirked wickedly. "Whether Commander Thrawn would prefer candy or flowers for his thank-you gift." Her friends dissolved into cheerful (though necessarily quiet) laughter.  
  
    "Actually, all I know that he likes is art," Rabor remarked after their renewed hilarity calmed.  
  
    "Well, unless he's into abstract finger-painting, I can't help with that," Jing quipped, to appreciative chuckles.  
  
    "Oh, and speaking of Commander Thrawn and art..." Sheplin straightened and looked at Rabor with a grin, which her friend met with a distrustfully raised eyebrow and quelling stare, "Did you tell them that story about him coming to your Prima Dance?"  
  
    Rabor had no need to reply, as the resulting " _What?_ s" and " _Oh?_ s" from their friends answered the question. She glared half-heartedly at Sheplin but knew she'd get no peace now until the rest of their group heard the tale. For principle's sake she cast a final foreboding scowl at Sheplin before beginning the story. Sheplin answered the glare with a shameless smirk.  
  
    "Did you know he was coming to see it?" Jing demanded, folding one leg over the other and leaning forward with interest.  
  
    "No," Rabor shook her head and looked around the circle of her friends sitting on the grass in the small clearing. "I had no idea until one of the other dancers came back all excited and told us there were Imperial officers there - higher officers, not just the Lieutenant in charge of the local garrison - and that one of them was an alien. I asked what the alien one looked like, and sure enough it was Commander Thrawn. I'm glad," she added, smiling, "because I made sure to add his name to the thanks at the end so everyone would know an Imperial officer helped us."  
  
    "Why would he go all the way to Daralho to see you dance?" Jastrinas looked far less amused than the others.  
  
    "He didn't go to see _me_ , he went to see the Prima Dance. Him and some other officers." Rabor gave him an impatient flick of a glare, and then returned her attention to the others. "But anyway, he came back to the staging area to congratulate us after the show and just out of habit, when I saw him coming toward me I stopped and saluted him."  
  
    "Still in your dance outfit?" Jing dissolved into giggles.  
  
    "Yes. That must have been a sight: me in my skintight, multicolored 'spirit of spring' dance outfit with gossamer draped from my arms and back and a wreath on my hair, standing at attention and saluting him." She paused, chuckling in good-natured humor as her friends reacted with merriment to the mental image.  
  
    "What did he do?" Jastrinas leaned forward, his previous disapproval lightened with amusement.  
  
    "That's the best part," Rabor replied with a grin. "He just lifted his eyebrows at me and said in that deadpan way of his," she dropped the pitch of her voice in imitation of Thrawn's deeper tones, "'No need, Cadet. You're out of uniform'."  
  
    "That's _ultimate_ ," Sheplin laughed, while next to her Anek whooped with laughter and the others indulged quieter merriment.  
  
    "It was great," Rabor agreed, chuckling lightly at the memory. "He said it so dryly, even the other officers with him didn't know how to react until he smiled and I started laughing."  
  
    "So was that why you've gotten red in the face every time he's around since then?" Anek queried. "Because he saw you dance?"  
  
    "No," Rabor gave a small scowl for she'd hoped it was not obvious. "That was thanks to one of my relatives embarrassing me to death in front of him. But that's a story for another time. I need to go study." Despite her friends' playful moans and grumbles of disappointment, Rabor rose to her feet and brushed off her uniform fastidiously before picking up her bag. "Talk to you all tomorrow!"  She waved in response to their chorus of parting salutations and walked off.  
  
  
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
    "And your evaluation?" Yularen folded his hands on the table in front of him. Beside him Admiral Kon settled back in his chair, looking slightly doubtful but interested.  
  
    Commander Thrawn sat back, his glowing scarlet eyes slightly unfocused as he thought. "If anything, our cadet underestimated the unrest on her homeworld. I suspect even she was unaware of the extent of it. Although the Empire has dealt with Daralho with a lighter touch than many worlds, opinions of its citizens about the Imperial occupation have been mixed from the start. However of late the schism has grown significantly between supporters of the Empire and those who oppose Imperial control. What was once merely the topic for debates over drinks or family dinners is inching toward a breaking point."  
  
    He picked up a datapad and tapped in a few commands, and a scene in hologram appeared on the holopad built into the center of the table. As the officers watched, dancers emerged one by one from behind a curtain, each with her arms and back draped in gossamer fabric, each with her right arm bent gracefully before her and her left arm extended, palm facing back so the symbols on her bracelets were clearly visible. Thrawn paused it and tightened the view of one dancer's bracelet.  
  
    "Each wears her house sigil, with her name and generation number underneath in Old Daralha." He unpaused until the dancer reached nearly to the front of the stage and turned her left hand palm forward so the symbols on the inside wrist of her bracelet came into view. "The symbols opposite them on the inside of the wrist are chosen by the dancer herself, to represent her own personality and views and to some extent, her generation of her family. The symbols can be commonplace, artistic - or politically charged." He backtracked it and raised the sound so that the politely enthusiastic applause of the audience could be heard, briefly rising as the dancer's chosen depiction of a bird in flight carrying a flower came into view. "The symbols for peace, and hope - fairly safe choices for that world even in our current state of unrest." The dancer moved to the side of the stage as another appeared in the back behind her.  
  
    "That's the cadet, isn't it?" Yularen queried, and Thrawn nodded curtly.  
  
    Silently they watched the young woman cross the stage with lithe steps on tiptoe, and when she neared the front she turned her wrist to reveal upon the inside of her bracelet the gearlike symbol of the Empire and below it a cadet's red rank bar. At this reveal the unseen audience's cheering noticeably dropped, there were a few gasps, a briefly rising susurrent hum of low-voiced conversing, and - barely audible in the recording -  even a few hisses. The young woman's smile cooled and her chin tilted up a bit but her gaze held fast upon the audience. The cheers rose again to their previous level, but one didn't have to be a connoisseur of dance to notice the defiant purposefulness in her ritual turn to go to the back corner and disappear behind the curtain with the other dancers.  
  
    "Hmm," the Admiral grunted, looking thoughtful as he raked a hand through his greying hair. "Maybe an increased military presence is in order."  
  
    "Perhaps, but subtly so," Thrawn demurred. "They are a stubborn and fierce people, and attempting to intimidate them would only rouse defiance against us."  
  
    "Then what do you suggest?" He gave Thrawn a look that was both skeptical and challenging.  
  
    "They are also a proud race, and may feel somewhat slighted by the Empire," Thrawn's response was unruffled. "I would suggest bringing in officers of higher ranks to command the garrisons of the more populous provinces - at least Commanders, if not Captains. And choose officers who are comfortable mingling with genteel society. The opinions of the First Families are very influential, and their goodwill might be won by sending officers of rank and sophistication who can relate to them as peers."  
  
    The Admiral mulled it over, then nodded slowly. "Sounds easy enough. Could be a good posting for some of the older officers nearing retirement."  
  
    "Veterans of the Clone Wars would be a good choice, as some Daralha also fought in that war," Thrawn suggested.  
  
    "Why not just send in more stormtroopers instead of these mind games?" a previously quiet junior officer complained from his seat beside the Admiral, giving Thrawn a sidelong look of sour dislike.  
  
    The older officer turned and glared at him repressively. "We have enough worlds that need to be quelled by force, we don't need to get stretched any thinner. If we can get this one to throw in with us it'll make life a lot easier for the Imperial Navy." He then turned toward Thrawn and Yularen, disregarding the chastened subordinate.  
  
    "Your visit backstage created a good holo-op, I'm told," Yularen interjected to Thrawn.  
  
    "Indeed it did," Thrawn sat back, steepling his fingers in front of him. "The cadet's little 'mistake' could not have been done better if I had advised her to set it up. That image - which I am told garnered some public attention - might help alleviate some of the anti-Imperial sentiment, some of which is based on the well-known Daralha openness to other races and dislike of human supremacist policies."  
  
    "So that's why they let him in," the scolded junior officer mumbled in an undertone that Thrawn was probably not meant to hear.  
  
    Thrawn's eyes glowed brighter for a moment but otherwise he gave no outward indication of having heard the remark.  
  
    "It's unfortunate that corrupt governor they removed from power a few years ago was pro-Imperial," Yularen remarked thoughtfully. "We were considering removing him ourselves, but they got tired of him first."  
  
    "Yet if the Empire had removed him, it would likely have been viewed as interference in their internal governance," Thrawn finished the thought. "And his successor is both well-viewed and supportive of the Empire."  
  
    "But his health is failing and with it his grip on the government," Yularen said grimly, "and the front-runner to replace him is vehemently anti-Imperial. So we'll need to handle this situation carefully."  
  
    "Indeed," Thrawn inclined his head. "There are many factors at play and we need more information."  
  
    "That's what you ISB are for, I guess," the Admiral observed as they all got to their feet, but the words were wry rather than spiteful.  
  
    "We do our best," Yularen riposted equally dryly. "Commander Thrawn, thank you for your insight into the situation."  
  
    "It was my pleasure, Colonel."  
  
  
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
    It was exhausting, Thrawn reflected later as he walked back to his quarters. He was resigned to a life of continually fighting wars to protect his two peoples, but that would be considerably easier if he didn't have to fight a constant uphill battle against the human prejudice of so many of his colleagues. The more open-minded like Yularen helped but they were all too rare.  
  
    He reached his quarters and when the door was safely shut behind him he gave a quiet sigh of relief. Had he been serving aboard a ship he might still have had to share quarters, but one benefit of teaching at the planetbound Academy was having a generous-sized chamber to himself.  
  
    He had taken advantage of it, obtaining good quality holoprojectors to place around the main room interspersed with a few real art pieces - necessarily small items, but no less treasured for it. Just being alone again in his space let him breathe easier. Thrawn moved around the room, activating the projectors to display various appealing _objet d'art_.  
  
    He paused when he drew close to one of the real items, which was carefully displayed in its own transparisteel case enclosing a stand made to show it to best effect. The person who had presented him with the ornately wrought silver bracelet might be very surprised at what care he had put into displaying it; the imagining of such brought a small smile to his lips. And yet the item deserved it, he reflected as he gazed down into the case. Not only for its beauty and cultural significance, though it had both, but because he had not had to buy, barter for, or take it; it had been a gift.  
  
    Carefully he opened the case and removed the bracelet, then took a seat in a comfortable chair where he could examine the jewelry at his leisure.  
  
    He'd been in a similar low mood as this the day this small treasure had come into his possession...

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_He'd been angry at himself for retreating to his office, but sometimes it all became too much. He had his duty, he was excelling in it, and he was close to reaching a level of rank that ensured most officers and enlisted wouldn't dare openly disrespect him. And yet sometimes it all still wore him down: the looks, the mutterings, the thinly veiled disrespect and casual dismissals. He shouldn't care, and he tried not to let individual incidents linger in his mind, but it was hard to shrug off something that never seemed to stop._  
  
_There was tap at the door, quiet, almost shy. As much as he didn't want to face anyone, at least the visitor was probably not an officer. Most likely it was a cadet who'd be more inclined to meek respectfulness. That he could bear._  
  
_"Enter," he said brusquely, and watched as the door opened. Dark hair was the first thing he saw, then the pale skin, blue-green eyes, and youthful features of Cadet Nataya Rabor._  
  
_"Sir?"  She hesitated, studying him uncertainly. "Maybe I should come back another time..."_  
  
_"Not at all, Cadet. What is your business?" How sloppy of him to let his mood be discerned. Perhaps he'd begun to slip because most humans didn't look at him enough to learn his expressions and tells. Most humans, but obviously not all._  
  
_Judging by her dubious glance the young woman wasn't entirely convinced, but she nodded respectfully and approached, coming to a stop before his desk._  
  
_"Yes, sir. I came to bring you the data crystal with the recording you wanted." She took a small bag from her pocket and placed it carefully on the desk in front of him. "Oh and one other thing..." She hesitated again but this time he could tell by the brief sidelong flick of her gaze that this was born of a different cause, some discomfort of her own. He had suspicions what she was there for, but he remained silent and gave no indication of his considerations as she picked up her thoughts again. "On my world, part of the custom around the Prima Dance is that each dancer keeps one bracelet and gives the other to someone important in her life. When I was thinking about who to give this year's to..." the young woman smiled and gave a little shrug, her eyes flicking up to meet his for a moment and then shyly downward again, "there was really only one clear choice." She reached into the bag draped from her shoulder and withdrew from it an elegant polished wooden box, which she held out to him. "If you'll have it, sir."_  
  
_If he'd have it. Despite his practical mind's previous suspicion that this was her errand, his emotions faltered with a moment's disbelief. Even among his own people there had not been many who made such personal gestures toward him as offering him gifts, and here in the Empire it almost never happened._  
  
_"I was under the impression the bracelet was usually given to a friend or loved one," he remarked with a steady calm that required far more effort then he liked, even as he reached for the box lest she take the comment as rejection._  
  
_"I wouldn't even have been there for the Dance if not for you," She gave another little shrug and smiled as she placed the box into his hand. "Not just getting me leave to go but arranging my transport - that's a lot more than many officers would do for the sake of another world's culture. I'd say that makes you friend enough for this."_  
  
_He opened the box and gazed silently at the lovingly decorated silver bracelet resting on soft velvet of a complementary dark blue color._  
  
_"You seemed so interested in the Prima Dance that I thought you might like to have it..." A slight upward lilt at the end of her comment signaled rising doubt, and he looked up and gave her a slight smile to soothe it._  
  
_"I do appreciate it very much, Cadet Rabor. Thank you." The words seemed inadequate to how much the gift meant to him, but the differences in their rank constrained him from anything more familiar and so that was all he could offer._  
  
_"You're welcome, sir," a very un-military smile lit her face, relieved and delighted that he was pleased with the gift. She brought her closed hand to rest over her heart and added in a more serious ceremonial tone, "May it bring you serenity and joy as warm as my regard for you, and may all you meet in future recognize your worth as I do." She punctuated the ritual phrase by bowing her head respectfully. When that was done she looked up, the smile lingering on her lips tempered by shyness. "Well... I won't take up any more of your time. Good day, sir." She started toward the door, then paused and turned back. "If I may, sir, maybe you should get some rest. You seem... a  little tired."_  
  
_"Perhaps I will," Thrawn gave her a small smile in appreciation of her concern. "Good day, Cadet."_  
  
_"Good day, sir." She slipped out the office door and was gone._

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
    He turned over the bracelet in his hands, examining it anew. Much of the work on it had been done by a professional jeweler, but of more interest was the inside wrist section which had - according to age-old custom - been done by the dancer herself.  
  
    He'd heard Rabor joke that due to the last-minute trip she had been more asleep than not while working on the bracelet, but it was obvious that she had put great care into it despite the haste to finish it in time. There was narrow and elegant edging around the Imperial symbol, which itself was done not in the more common black but etched in with a dark blue enamel that created a similar but more artistic effect. There was, he thought, some significance that he was not quite grasping about that coloring. True that the cadet was fond of blue - her dance outfit had been in shades of blue and green -  but it was not only that. The colors of her noble house were red and purple, so purple too was a more obvious choice that she had passed over.  
  
    Thrawn had developed and honed the ability to discern the characteristics of races by their art, but the quirks and personalities of individual artists were trickier. The bracelet was a challenge, and Thrawn never shrank from a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where Vanto is, I couldn't find a place for him in the fic. And despite the excellence of the new Thrawn novel in many ways, that idea that Thrawn is terrible at politics just makes no sense to me at all. It's literally the same skills as his incredible tactical genius, just in a different sort of "battlefield". So I'm electing to ignore that. ;P


	2. "You called it,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to get 'interesting' at the Academy for both Thrawn and his group of loyal cadets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye gods, I didn't realize it had been eight months since I posted the first chapter! Sorry everyone, 2017 kind of sucked for me, but it looks like 2018 is starting off much better! So I should be much better about updating my fics this year. xD

  
    "So you've got cadets giving you jewelry now!" came a very unwelcome voice from behind Thrawn with mock joviality. Thrawn had followed Imperial Navy procedure and filed a report about the bracelet Rabor had gifted him, and as he expected he was granted permission to keep it. Unfortunately once a report was filed there was always the chance that it would be seen by people other than the official recipients.  
  
    " _One_ cadet. Singular," he correctly curtly as Commander Konstantine fell into step beside him, the human's smirk very noticeable even under his ridiculous mustache. Silently Thrawn cursed whoever or whatever had enabled Konstantine to find out.  
  
    "Still, you should be careful. A pretty little cadet giving you expensive trinkets, think of how it looks to those who don't know you," Konstantine added slyly.  
  
    "Is there a point you are trying to make, Commander?" Thrawn stopped walking and turned to face Konstantine, giving him the full effect of glowing red eyes. Konstantine turned to face him, but as Thrawn expected, the other officer met his gaze only briefly before his eyes slid away, unable to meet Thrawn's scarlet eyes for long.  
  
    "Just offering some friendly advice," the human responded, still with false amiability but a little of his bluster deflated.  
  
    "Thank you," Thrawn said with a pointed lack of gratitude. "Now if there is nothing else, I have work to do before my next class."  
  
    "Of course, don't let me stop you," Konstantine held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Have a good day, _Commander_."  
  
    "Good day," Thrawn nodded curtly and then walked away from the other officer and into the building, outwardly calm but inwardly irritated. Konstantine was one of the many who disliked the very idea of an alien being an Imperial officer, and he was even more resentful now that Thrawn had reached equal rank to him in far less time than it had taken the human. He was never quite disrespectful enough for Thrawn to make an issue of it - at least not to Thrawn's face - but it was characteristic of Konstantine to make a kind gesture like the giving of the bracelet seem somehow illicit and improper.  
  
    Thrawn tried to put aside the unpleasantness of the conversation so he could focus on his tasks, but for the rest of the afternoon the most observant of his students noticed that their instructor seemed a bit out of temper.  
  
  
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
    "What is that you're studying so intently?" Commandant Arrel peered over Thrawn's shoulder. Hale and healthy even well into her ninth decade, Arrel had served in the Navy for over half her life; first for the Republic, through the Clone Wars, and then the change into the Empire. Now that she had taken over command of the Imperial Academy, she kept firm control over the training of the cadets. Although, Thrawn had discovered, she was not without a sense of humor once she deemed someone to be worth talking to.  
  
    Thrawn turned the datapad so she could see it, and after a few moments of surveying it in silence she said curiously, "Lightsabers?"  
  
    "Indeed. A fascinating weapon," Thrawn replied as she took a seat across from him, ignoring the glances of the officers around them consuming their meals at the other tables filling the officers' mess.  
  
    "Antiquated and barbaric, you mean," she said wryly, and gestured a serving droid close.  
  
    "Perhaps. It seems a straightforward enough item to create - a handle containing a power supply, a kyber crystal to focus, etc. Yet it is said that only a Jedi, or a Sith, may build one. There is no information as to _why_ one needs such abilities to create one, yet even the most scientific sources avow it cannot be done otherwise."  
  
    "If you want one, you could put in a request to the Emperor," Arrel suggested, a humorous half-smile curling her mouth. "I've heard they recovered dozens of them from the Jedi Temples after Order 66." She made a face, the corners of her mouth turned down, and slanted her gaze away as if suppressing something she wanted to say. "Even _child-sized_ ones."  
  
    "Thank you, perhaps I shall," Thrawn said, his eyes on the plans again, with no indication if he noticed the hint of frivolity in her suggestion. "However it is more the design I am curious about, and why they require Force abilities to make. It is possible that some of the ideas could be adapted to more versatile and modern weapons, but that would not be practical if there is such a limited pool of individuals who could get them to work."  
  
    As he spoke the serving droid bustled toward them bearing a tray of delicious-smelling food, and the Commandant leaned back to allow the droid to place the plates in front of her.  
  
    "They do use kyber crystals in some engineering," she pointed out.  She shook her head at the droid's polite inquiry if she wanted anything else, and when it trundled off she picked up her drink and eyed Thrawn again.  
  
    "Indeed," Thrawn agreed politely, "but not with such efficient use of the crystals' more esoteric properties."  
  
    "So you got bored with art and decided to dabble in weapons design?" Arrel gave him a small friendly smirk before tucking into her meal.  
  
    "I never get bored with art." He gave her a lightly reproving look that made her smile in amusement. "But I am always interested in ways to improve our defenses. What if the Jedi or other Force users rebel again?"  
  
    "The Jedi were wiped out." Now she looked plainly skeptical. "Them, their temples, their superstitions, all of it."  
  
    He shrugged, glancing back down at the pad. "Yet knowledge, once known, cannot be unknown."  
  
    "It can if you kill everyone who knows it," Arrel riposted dryly. "All the Force users alive now serve the Emperor. And I would _not_ recommend asking the Inquisitors for information about their toys."  
  
    "I had not intended to," Thrawn assured her with a slight amused smile.  
  
    "Good, I don't feel like having to find another Strategy instructor mid-year," she responded, only partly joking. "Speaking of which..." Arrel wrinkled her nose as if smelling something unpleasant as she leaned forward and quietly continued, "We're in for a visit in five days. Grand High Quizzie himself." At Thrawn's inquiring look she elaborated, "The Grand Inquisitor. He's looking for any students who might pass his _special_ tests."  
  
    "And if any do?" Thrawn frowned, focusing his full attention upon her as he picked up on her darkened mood.  
  
    "Then stars help them," she replied grimly, glancing out the window at the cadets outside on the grounds.  "It's been a while since he came here but apparently they're recruiting again.  We don't go easy on the cadets here at the Academy, but we're trying to make loyal, competent officers out of them. What his lot does... they're not even _people_ anymore when he gets done with 'em. Just mind-twisted zealots."  
  
    "Were the Jedi not so?" Thrawn queried, curious of her opinion even though he had knowledge of his own.  
  
    "The Jedi just snagged 'em as babies and kept 'em cloistered until they were good and indoctrinated." She stared moodily down at her plate, thinking. "We're not supposed to talk about it anymore, but I served with a few Jedi in the Clone Wars. The Order as a whole was off kilter and their rules were bizarre, but some of the individual Jedi seemed like decent folk. Brave, loyal, good fighters." She gave a brief lopsided smile. "Even the occasional mischief-maker among 'em." Then she scowled again, glaring out the window as if at someone not present. "But the Inquisitors, they take near-grown kids as their 'recruits' and mind-twist all the personality out of them. One time they took one of my best students. I didn't hear anything about him for over a year, then when I saw him again it was like they'd scooped out everything that made him a person. He didn't even use his name anymore, called himself Sixth Brother or some frizz like that. They turned a smart, promising young man into a violent toady. I'm glad I'm not a teacher anymore, 'cause be blasted if I'd ever again let Quizzie take any student I liked." She gave Thrawn a sidelong glance and then focused on her plate again, and fell silent.  
  
    Thrawn drained the last of his drink and set the glass aside. "If you will forgive me, I have some work in my office requiring my attention. Good day, Commandant."  
  
    She gave a small dry smile and waved him away with an offhand gesture, which he acknowledged with a nod.  
  
    Thrawn rose from his seat, gathered his datapads and walked away, his sharp mind turning over this new information.  
  
  
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
    " _Kriff_ , someone triggered the alarm! Run!" Li shouted as Rebel guards swarmed out of the base. He plowed forward harder through the jungle, hacking through the foliage with a knife nearly as long as his forearm, while drawing his blaster with his other hand.  
  
    At the back of the group, Nataya Rabor turned and fired off several shots at the Rebels chasing them. An answering shot made her duck, shoving Sheplin with her free hand out of the shot's path.  
  
    "Jing, help Li! We have to get to the shuttle!" Rabor shouted over the sounds of blaster fire. Jing nodded hastily and ran to his side.  
  
    "The river is this way, I can hear it! Come on!" Jing shouted. She splintered off diagonally, and the others followed her. At the back Rabor and Jastrinas took turns laying down suppressive fire.  
  
    "Remind me why we only brought sidearms instead of blaster rifles?" Li yelled, sounding aggravated.  
  
    "Because this was supposed to be a quiet infiltration!" Jing responded, drawing her blaster and squeezing off a shot over her companions' shoulders at the Rebels.  
  
    "I don't think we do 'quiet' very well," Li quipped.  
  
    "You think?" Pelli Sheplin snapped sarcastically, fumbling with the object in her hands to try to draw her own weapon.  
  
    "Just hang on to that, Pelli! We can't risk losing it!" Rabor's command stopped her. Sheplin scowled but obeyed, clasping the device tightly against her chest with both hands. "Don't let it get wet!" Rabor added as they splashed into the river.  
  
    "I dunno about this, it's clearer runnin' for us but also clearer shootin' at us for them," Li remarked as they settled into running in knee-deep water.  
  
    "We'll just have to make sure they don't get to take advantage of that," Rabor riposted with a wolflike smile. She released the expended power cell from her blaster, letting it fall into the water, and clicked another into its place while Jastrinas kept up fire.  
  
    Li circled around, grabbed Jastrinas' shoulder, and shoved the tracker-mech into his hands. "Here, you work this thing better than I do, you take lead!"  
  
    "You can work it fine, I'm busy!" the other male scowled and pushed Li's hand away.  
  
    "Go, Pzandor! Keep your weapon out in case any Rebels got ahead of us!" Rabor told him. Pzandor hesitated, displeasure clear on his face, but took the trackmech from Li's hands and went to the lead. Behind him Rabor lifted an eyebrow at Li, silently expressing that he would be explaining himself later. Li grinned charmingly and fired a few shots off, eliciting a yell from one of the Rebels as his shot struck true.  
  
    "You weren't gonna make me go this whole mission without gettin' to shoot at some Rebs, were you Nat?" he quipped.  
  
    "Nerfwit," she muttered, amused despite the stress of the situation. "Fine, make yourself useful."  
  
    "My genuine pleasure!" he avowed and laid down a rather impressive strafe of suppressive fire that made the Rebels dodge back into the foliage, at least one falling on the way, plainly alive but unable to get to its feet again.  
  
    "This isn't supposed to be fun, you know," Rabor informed him, raising her weapon higher to pick off one Rebel who'd had the clever notion to climb a tree for a better shot at them. A yelp and a form falling out of the tree made Li grin again.  
  
    "Nice shot. And who says we can't enjoy our work? Though I still say we shoulda brought a Deece."  
  
    Rabor snorted quietly in amusement. "Maybe next time, if you behave."  
  
    "Ahh, you're no fun." But he was still grinning fiercely as he fired at their pursuers.  
  
    "Watch out!" Jastrinas' voice made them both start, and twin blaster fire behind them alerted Li and Rabor to the new threat. Unfortunately the warning came a fraction too late, as a shot hit Rabor's shoulder and nearly knocked her off her feet, the sickening smell of singed flesh filling the air. With a hiss of pain and a muttered oath in her native language, Nataya fought through the pain and regained her footing, waving off Jing's attempt to check her wound.  
  
    "Wait until we get to the shuttle," she told her friend.  
  
    "Nearly there!" Jastrinas told them. He and Jing dashed up onto the bank toward the shuttle, then threw themselves back as blaster fire greeted them from the direction of their escape.  
  
    "Oh _shavit_ , they found the shuttle!" Li swore, "How many of them?" he shouted to Jing and Jastrinas.  
  
    The latter answered, "No more than half a dozen, I think."  
  
    "Great, a firefight on two sides," Rabor muttered. Five of them against how many rebels, and Pelli encumbered by holding the device they'd been sent to steal back. She turned and grabbed Sheplin's weapon from its holster and began firing two-handed at the Rebels. Contrary to holodrama heroes Rabor couldn't aim with any real precision with her non-dominant hand, but it worked well enough just to force the attackers to keep their heads down. _Great stars these things kick,_ she thought. When they got home from this mission, she vowed to herself, she'd do more weight-lifting so she could keep better handle on these things. The fact that the blasters were not meant to be used two at once was to Rabor's mind no excuse not to be able to do it anyway.  
  
    Despite hers and Li's best efforts, the Rebels were advancing. There were more of them than the young Imperials were expecting, and the truth was their small sidearms didn't have a very long range even when set to kill.  
  
    That was when Rabor saw something that made her chest clench with dread: a Rebel moving through the trees toward the shuttle, an ominously large cylinder strapped to his back.  
   
    " _Kriff_ , they have a rocket launcher!" Rabor swore. "If they get near the shuttle with that we're all dead." As she turned to fire at the carrier the other Rebels swarmed around him and one of her shots aimed at him dropped another Rebel instead. "The landing platform! I can get better aim at them from there!"  
  
    "I  got a better idea, how 'bout we all get in the ship and get the _kriff_ out of here?" Li suggested dryly.  
  
    "If they get that rocket launcher to bear while we're still in range, they'll blow us out of the sky. Someone has to make sure they don't."  
  
    "I'll do it then," he argued, glancing over his shoulder at the others hurrying toward their transport.  
   
    "Li, go, make sure the others get to the ship! I'll buy us some time." Rabor snapped. He hesitated and she added, "They may have summoned help, and you're a better pilot than I am. If we encounter enemy ships we'll need you flying."  
  
    Li muttered a profanity. "I'll circle back for you!" he promised, and turned to run toward the ship.  
  
    Rabor pressed her lips together to suppress the fatalistic comment she might otherwise have made, and ran off into the underbrush.  
  
    It wasn't easy to avoid the Rebels, and several shots narrowly missed her as she scaled the ladder onto the landing platform, but Rabor managed, and grinned to herself as she saw how much better an angle she had to fire at the enemy - an expression that faded when she realized how many more of them there were, far more moving in the trees than they'd thought even inhabited the base.  
  
    ISB had a lot to answer for, Rabor thought with gallows humor as she laid down a pattern of shooting at the enemy. Behind her the ship fired up, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately that rocket launcher was still out there, and that was assuming it was the only one. She had to keep them from using it. But how?  
  
    There was no help for it. She just had to keep shooting and make sure they didn't manage to get a clear shot at the Imperial ship. Of course the Rebels could try to fire the rocket launcher from the forest, but that was as likely to bring a tree down on them as anything else. No, they'd need to be in the clearing.  
  
    Sure enough she saw a Rebel emerge from the trees carrying the launcher, flanked by two companions who fired in Nataya's direction. She hastily ducked behind the low guardwall surrounding the platform. After a few seconds she popped up to fire a shot that felled the Rebel holding the launcher. Immediately a salvo of return fire made her duck again, but she grinned with feral triumph. Unfortunately her shot was unlikely to have damaged the weapon itself, meaning one of the others could still use it against them. She eased an eye over the guardwall and sure enough, she saw another Rebel lifting the weapon to his back. Then she saw the others. The Rebels must have realized most of their opponents were gone, for they poured from the trees toward her position. Cold dread stabbed through her gut as she realized there was no way she could take them all and prevent the launcher from taking down the shuttle.  
  
    The shuttle, now airborne, swerved around toward her, no doubt to pick her up, and she shook her head wildly and waved them away. She turned away, hoping they would take the message, and began firing with both blasters toward the launcher, ignoring the Rebels approaching her position even as they began scaling the ladders of the platform.  
  
     _Go, go, go!_ She thought desperately at her friends and as if in answer the small ship turned and zoomed toward outer atmosphere.  
  
    Then Rebels began swarming onto the platform, the leader leveling an old but nasty-looking blaster at her.  
  
    "They sending _kids_ against us now?" he sneered, looking down at Rabor. She bared her teeth slightly at him in a feral smile.  
  
    "They're old enough to be Imps, they're old enough to die," the other aimed his blaster at her, and Rabor knew she was out of time. At least she'd done what she had to, she thought; her crewmates were in the ship, clear to leave the planet and get back to base with the device they'd been sent for. She'd done her duty to the Empire. _All for the mission_.  
  
    She smiled sweetly up at the Rebels looming over her as she watched her companions' ship leave launcher range. They were safe. " _Kriff_ off."  
  
    The last thing Nataya saw was the Rebel's smirk while his companion raised his blaster and pointed it between her eyes.  
  
    "Your buddies might have gotten away, but you're done for. Bye-bye, baby Imp," he said coldly, and then the blaster flashed and everything went dark.  
  
  
                -----------------------------  
  
  
    In the shuttle, Pelli Sheplin screamed, "Nati!" as she watched her friend's body crumple to the ground. Jing came to her side and clasped her shoulders, her dark eyes glimmering with tears as they watched the Rebels fire several more shots into their fallen friend.  
  
    "Pelli," Jing said, trying to pull her away from the window, "We can't help her now. We have to complete the mission. That's what she wanted. It's what she... what she died for." Sheplin resisted Jing's attempts to move her, instead shoving the device toward her. Jing took the device and moved away toward the cockpit, glancing sidelong at Jastrinas as she passed. He sat hunched over in the seat, face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Jing left him alone and went to the cockpit, taking the copilot's seat beside Li.  
  
    "We'll make those _kriffers_ pay for that. I got a blaster bolt for every last one of 'em." Li turned his eyes away from the controls for a bare moment to glance sidelong at Jing, who nodded.  
  
    "Yeah, we will," she agreed grimly, her thoughts lingering on the image of Rabor collapsing to the ground as the Rebels shot her again and again.  
  
    The shuttle made a swooping turn and left the atmosphere, but in the back Pelli Sheplin kept her eyes fixed on Nataya's crumpled form until they were out of sight.  
  
                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
    In a room at the Academy far away from the Rebel base, Commander Thrawn watched the scene carefully, a small smile curving up the corners of his mouth.  
  
    "I'll be a son of a rancor," Arrel vowed, watching the monitor, then glancing down at the prone yet unharmed figures of the cadets in the medbay below.  
  
    "That's ten you owe me, _vod_ ," the officer behind them muttered to his fellow officer. The nearly identical-looking man beside him scowled and nodded.  
  
    "You called it, Thrawn," the commandant continued. "How in space did you know she'd be the one to stay back? It could just as easily have been any of the others. Especially Li, as reckless as he is."  
  
    "Because Cadet Rabor would not have allowed any of the others to make such a sacrifice as long as she herself was equally capable of doing so. Her rank of Keta-fen on her homeworld proves that she is predisposed to protecting and - if necessary - sacrificing herself to save those she considers her own."  
  
    "How do you remember all thi- never mind. But that's assuming she'd be the one giving the orders. We made sure their officer got killed, so any of them could have taken charge. How'd you know it would be her?"  
  
    "They have been my students for the better part of a year, Commandant. I could detail the aspects of their personalities that led to that conclusion, but in short, I have seen how this group operates. They play to their strengths, with little friction between them. Rabor would be the one to command in a situation of this type, and when she fell, or if she was not there, then Jing would take command." He gestured at the monitor which showed Jing seated beside Li, clasping his shoulder and talking quietly to him. In the medbay room below, Jing's hand twitched and curled half-closed as if clasping something.  
  
    Arrel shook her head in wonder. "Let's get down there before Rabor wakes up. They're always liable to get panicky after they've been killed in a simulation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are good and encourage me to write more.  
> No comments are not good and not encouraging.


	3. "There's something else, isn't there?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The simulation is over, but the repercussions of it may last far longer than even Thrawn expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love! I welcome polite concrit.
> 
> This chapter has less Thrawn than I wanted, but future chapters should make up for it, and I hope you'll enjoy my little group of cadets learning from their awesomest instructor.
> 
> Note: I don't know why movies and TV get it wrong so often, but calling a female officer "sir" in the real military would get a person in worlds of trouble. "Ma'am" is the correct form of address for a female officer in the military.

  
  
    Nataya Rabor came to with a sharp and desperate gasp, gulping in lungfuls of air as she stared in momentary panic at the sterile white ceiling. She grabbed her shoulder where she had been shot, freezing in shock as she found no burned flesh or gaping hole of a blaster burn. Rubbing her forehead similarly revealed no injury, not so much as a sore spot, even though she retained a disturbingly vivid recollection of being shot with a blaster at point-blank range.  
  
    "You are uninjured," the MD droid told her calmly as it stopped next to her bed, "Lie back and calm yourself, and memory will return." The droid extended a metal limb to press against her other shoulder, encouraging her to return to her former prone position, but the cadet resisted and sat up. Finally the Emdee gave a noise like an exasperated sigh and busied itself unhooking her IV.  
  
    "Relax, cadet," Movement in a far corner of the room caught Rabor's attention and she saw Commandant Arrel coming toward her with Commander Thrawn by her side. Rabor hastily tried to get off the bed to stand at attention but Arrel stopped her with a curt, "Stay put!" The Commandant folded her arms and glared until the cadet settled down, hands folded meekly in her lap. "You've just been executed, Cadet," she added drily. "Give yourself a minute."  
  
    "Yes, ma'am," Rabor replied in automatic deference, then stammered hastily, "Where are the others? My squadmates? Did they escape?"  
  
    "Look around, Rabor," Arrel directed, and for the first time Rabor did consciously look around to the sides and behind her - to see her friends in other beds, unconscious and attached to IVs and tubes as she had been. "It was a simulation. Think back and you'll remember. The resuscitation drugs may take a minute or two to work, but it will come back to you."  
  
    Nataya cast her gaze downward as she thought, and abruptly realized she was clad not in her uniform but in a tank top and loose, lightweight exercise pants. She was almost entirely covered save for her arms and neck being left bare, but it still made her feel underdressed in front of her teacher and the Commandant. She shifted self-consciously but said nothing, and resumed searching back in her mind for the memories.  
  
    She looked around, her gaze pausing at each of her fellow cadets in the other beds, and then returned her gaze to Arrel and Thrawn. Recollections began to return, albeit slowly and blearily: she and her group being escorted to Medbay, darting nervous glances at each other and wondering what was to come, her laying back in the bed and feeling the world blur as the drugs took effect, then darkness and suddenly she came to somewhere else entirely.  
  
    "I - yes, I remember now." Nataya lifted her hand to rub at her temples. "It was... very convincing."  
  
    "That's the point," Arrel's tone could have dried a Tatooine desert. "We can hardly get a measure of you if you know your 'death' won't be permanent."  
  
    "Yes, ma'am," Nataya responded absently, still struggling to reconcile the induced memories with the real ones.  
  
    "But you didn't do half bad, cadet," Arrel remarked, a wry smile deepening the subtle lines near her mouth. "Usually the first ones get themselves killed out of carelessness or stupidity, a lot earlier in the simulation. Your team acquitted themselves surprisingly well."  
  
    "Thank you, Commandant," Rabor replied humbly, making a mental note to tell the others about the compliment later.  
  
    "And if they manage to finish without anyone else getting killed, it'll be even better," the older women's tone conveyed some good-natured doubt as to the likelihood of that.  
  
    Rabor nodded and glanced from her to Thrawn, then looked more closely at him. "There's something else, isn't there, sir?" she queried, studying his neutral expression. "Something more I could have done."  
  
    Once again, Thrawn thought, the cadet had read him uncommonly well. It was most curious. He gave a small nod.  
  
    "I need to check how the others are doing," Arrel straightened, absently smoothing down the sides of her uniform. "Commander Thrawn, don't tell her too much before the briefing." She move off between the beds toward a monitor on the other side of the medbay, pausing by each cadet to glance at them and the medbed readouts as she passed.  
  
    Rabor nodded respectfully to the older woman and then turned back to Thrawn expectantly.  
  
    "The particular sidearm you were using can be rigged to overload, causing an effectively large explosion even when the weapon is mostly expended," Thrawn told her gently, keeping his tone level so that she would not take it as a reprimand.  
  
    She winced a little anyway. "Large enough to damage that rocket launcher into uselessness?"  
  
    "Possibly. You would have been unlikely to get close enough on foot, but if you were able to make a very low flyover in the shuttle and throw it down on them with sufficient accuracy, you might have disabled the rocket launcher and escaped with all your lives. It would take uncommon skill at piloting but I believe Cadet Li Anek would have been able to achieve it."  
  
    Rabor bowed her head and covered her face with her hands in obvious embarrassment. "So I 'died' for nothing."  
  
    "That is not necessarily, so in this case," Thrawn attempted to soothe her. "This simulation was programmed so that not all of you would finish. Until one of you was 'killed', the others could not escape. In that way you did help your squadmates escape."  
  
    "I- I don't understand," she frowned and tilted her head slightly, brow creased with curiosity at this new information. "We wouldn't be able to escape unless one of us died?"  
  
    "Correct," Thrawn affirmed. "The scenario was a test of character as much as ability, and in that you distinguished yourself admirably. All of your group, but you especially."  
  
    Rabor blushed a high color at his praise, and lowered her head in an attempt to hide her smile. "Thank you, sir."  
  
    Across the room, Arrel raised an eyebrow in their direction before turning back to her conversation with a clone noncom.  
  
    "I will teach you and the others the technique for rigging the blaster. And so you will have that knowledge when a real situation arises." Thrawn paused, watching her, and then added, "You have the ability to use your mind creatively. The Rebels may have access to any of the standard knowledge of our weaponry; it is nonstandard knowledge, and your ability to improvise and catch your enemy unaware, that can bring you victory."  
  
    "All right, Cadet," Arrel said loudly and Nataya flinched a little, for she had not heard the Commandant approaching. "Go get cleaned up. The Emdee is bringing your uniform."  
  
    "Ma'am, I should be here when the others wake up," Rabor protested. "If they think I'm dead..."  
  
    "They're in an outer-atmosphere battle now, they won't be out of it for another fifteen or twenty minutes at least. Go get yourself cleaned up," Arrel ordered brusquely.  
  
    "Yes, ma'am." Rabor bowed her head briefly in resignation. She'd just have to be quick about the cleanup to ensure she was here when her friends awoke. With a respectful nod and a "Commander," to Thrawn, she slid down from the bed and set off toward the 'fresher.  
  
    He'd meant to say more before Arrel returned, but, Thrawn reflected, hopefully the cadet would think on his words. He turned back to the Commandant but what he might have said was stopped by Arrel's voice.  
  
    "Rabor!" she barked. "Come back here!" The cadet looked startled but obediently returned to face the officers. The commandant tilted her head to get a better look at the cadet's back even as she ordered, "Turn around." Again Nataya obeyed and when the younger woman's back was turned Arrel pushed aside one strap of her tank top just enough to bare the small patch of scarring on the back of her left shoulder- scarring that was far too ornate to be accidental and the wrong texture to be from a blade. "Cadet, were you _branded_?!"  
  
    "Yes, ma'am," Rabor replied, a small puzzled frown marring her regulation calm, as if she had no idea why her superior was so shocked. Perhaps she didn't, Thrawn thought, amused. "I'm Keta-fen of my family. It's tradition we bear the house sigil and the mark of our rank in our flesh."  
  
    The Commandant stared at her for a long moment and then shook her head. "Go get cleaned up, Cadet." As the younger woman walked away, Arrel muttered, "Barbaric."  
  
    Thrawn doubted that Arrel had meant for her to hear the remark, but the younger woman did hear. The Commandant had turned away, so she did not see the cadet stop in her tracks, her back suddenly stiff. Rabor looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowed with anger, but Thrawn caught her gaze and gave a flick of his eyes toward the back of the room where she had been heading, in silent command to _go_. He saw a flicker in her eyes as her temper faltered at this unexpected intervention, prideful anger warring with duty and loyalty; she inhaled deeply, let it out, and then turned back and resumed her course to the washroom.  
  
    Thrawn let out a silent breath, releasing the tension of concern; he knew all too well what it was like to be judged unfairly and have to keep silent in the face of such judgment. She was younger than he had been when he had first faced it in the Empire, but it was a cruel lesson she had to learn if she was to fulfill the potential he saw in her. And there was more than even she knew depending on her to do just that.

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    When Nataya got into the washroom she placed her hands on the sink and let her shoulders droop, a deep sigh releasing much of her anger. Commander Thrawn had been right to stop her; she could have destroyed her future career with a brief display of temper at the Commandant's judgmental remark.  
  
     _He knew_ , she realized. He knew exactly how she had felt, for he had to live it every day far worse than she ever did.  The weight of this realization caused her to sink down onto a bench, understanding as she never had before what he went through. How often had he heard remarks like that, or worse, and had to hold his tongue, restrain any anger he felt because expressing it would only backlash on him? She had heard enough vile comments about him to have some idea what might have been said either to him or "accidentally" loud enough for him to hear.  
  
_I am so sorry, sir,_ she thought. He endured so much antagonism from humans and yet he still had courage enough to care for his students and watch over them. _Protecting us even from our own stupidity sometimes._ Those of her world were sometimes scorned by Core Worlders as little civilized and barely human, but if Thrawn could bear far worse condemnation with such nobility and dignity, then she would honor him by striving to live by his example.  
  
    "May all you meet in future recognize your worth as I do," she murmured softly, her gaze directed at the mirror but unfocused as she pondered. It was just as well that Thrawn would probably never know how much emotion had lain behind every word of that ceremonial blessing she had given him with the bracelet. She would ensure that Thrawn knew he had her respect and loyalty; nothing beyond that was possible and it was her duty to ensure it wouldn't cause trouble for either of them.  
  
    She shook her head, banishing those distracting thoughts, and began shedding her clothes in preparation to bathe.

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
    Despite her effort to hurry, it was fifteen minutes later when she walked back into the medbay, feeling much restored and more proper for being cleansed and in her neat uniform.  
  
    "Have any of them awoken yet?" she inquired of the Emdee, but Arrel answered.  
  
    "Good timing, Rabor, I think your crewmates are just about to come out of it," the Commandant responded, keeping her eyes and the monitor.  
  
     _Crewmates_ , Nataya echoed in her mind. She liked the sound of that. Discreetly she edged closer until she was at a good angle to see the monitor without getting close enough to her superior officers to risk offending them.  
  
    Jastrinas had a panel open in the shuttle, kneeling to do some kind of repairs. Rabor briefly wished she could get closer to the screen, then pushed aside the thought and continued watching.  
  
    He must have touched the wrong circuit in his repairs, for he stiffened unnaturally, his head thrown back and body shaking as much of the shuttle's power coursed through his body. Rabor clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out his name, but not in time to stifle her horrified gasp. Both officers glanced back at her. Arrel turned back toward the monitor, but Thrawn caught her gaze and then glanced toward the bed where Pzandor Jastrinas lay unconscious and unharmed. She followed his gaze to her classmate, then looked back at Thrawn, lowered her hands from her mouth, and gave him a small nod. He gave a small nod back and turned back to watching the monitor.  
  
    "Boy needs to brush up if he's gonna try repairs like that," Arrel commented. "That would've been a career-ender even if he survived it. Laser-brained stunt, trying to do repairs in that panel without safety gloves."  
  
    "Maybe he didn't think there was enough time to get them," Rabor instinctively defended her friend, but a sidelong glance from the Commandant made her shrink back a little and murmur an apology.  
  
    On the screen Pelli was tugging Jastrinas' prone form out of the way so she could kneel in front of the panel and then reached into it barehanded. Arrel palmed her face in exasperation. Pelli fared better than Pzandor, for she finished the repair quickly and the stars visible through the shuttle portholes turned to streaks as the shuttle jumped to hyperspace. Whoops loud enough to be audible even to Nataya came from the monitor as Jing rushed into the back of the shuttle, stopping still when she saw Jastrinas.    
  
    "Just a few minutes now," one of the clone noncoms remarked.  
  
    All of them watched in silence for the next few minutes as the remaining cadets made the trip back to the starbase. When the shuttle landed the three cadets still on their feet worked together to hoist Pzandor between them and carry him out of the shuttle. But the moment their feet touched the floor of the starbase, the monitor went blank.    
  
    The officers turned to the prone forms in the beds and Emdee droid bustled out from its station to check each cadet's vitals and then poise itself between the beds.  
  
    Sharp gasping inhalations signaled the other cadets reviving, and Nataya thought wryly to herself that at least she wasn't the only one who'd gotten a jarring awakening. They stirred, and as the droid went around removing IVs, they one by one began to open their eyes. Thrawn and Arrel approached them and began talking to them quietly but Nataya lingered back uncertainly.  
  
    As they began to sit up, Pelli was the first to look around and see Nataya. Her blue eyes grew huge. "Nati!" she gasped and scrambled off the bed, ignoring the Emdee droid's protests. Rabor met her friend partway and found herself grabbed into a tight hug.  
  
    "How are you alive?" Pelli demanded, pulling back just far enough to look her friend in the face.  
  
    "It was a simulation. You'll start remembering soon," Nataya assured her, and looked up as the newly freed Li and Jing ran towards them, moments later trapping both Rabor and Sheplin in a group hug.  
  
    Pelli pulled her back into a closer hug. "If you ever do anything stupid like that again I'll kill you!" she vowed into Nataya's hair.  
  
    "Get in line," Li drawled giving Nataya a glare as best he could while hugging her.  
  
    "That would be kind of redundant if I'm already dead," she chuckled, briefly tightening the hug.  
  
    "Shut up, I hate you," Pelli mumbled, still clinging to her.  
  
    Nataya laughed softly as they all hugged. "I love you all too." Then she became aware that someone was missing from their group and looked past her friends gathered around her to see that Jastrinas was still sitting on the edge of his bed, his sallow pallor making his dark eyes seem even darker as he watched them silently.  
  
    "Pzandor?" she said uncertainly, struck by the level of pain in his gaze. Without a word he slid down from the bed and strode towards her. As if on cue her other friends released her and moved back, and moments later Pzandor engulfed Nataya in a tight embrace. As he buried his face in her damp hair she wrapped her arms around him in return, instinctively tightening her hold when she felt him shaking. She moved back just a little without releasing him, and gently kissed his cheek.  
  
    "It's all right, Pzandor. I'm here," she murmured in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm not hurt. None of us are."  
  
    "Nataya," he murmured without lifting his head, his softly accented voice muffled. "Don't ever do that to me again."  
  
    An unsubtle throat-clearing preceded Commandant Arrel's next comment. "EPC, cadets," she warned.  
  
    Rabor cast her gaze down, wishing she could do more to comfort Pzandor, but maybe the interruption was just as well; she didn't know what else she could do for him in honesty. Plus they'd already gone well beyond the normal Academy limits into Excessive Personal Contact, and it was generous of the Commandant and the Commander to have allowed as much as they had. Rabor cleared her throat, giving him a gentle pat on the back before stepping back. He allowed it and his arms fell away, but his head remained bowed for a moment before he took a deep breath and straightened. His eyes lingered briefly on Nataya; she kept her gaze on her superior officers and pretended not to notice. As cowardly as it made her feel, it was considerably less awkward that way. To her silent but profound gratitude, the others moved in to hug him and clasp his shoulders in relief that he was well.  
  
    Li broke the weighty silence. "What in th'stars were you thinkin' with that stunt, Nati?"  
  
    "I know, I know. Commander Thrawn has already told me I messed up," Rabor informed them, smiling wryly.  
  
    "That was not what I said, cadet," Thrawn corrected, giving her a slightly narrow-eyed look from where he had been talking with one of the clone noncoms.  
  
    Rabor jumped slightly at the abrupt correction - having not expected him to hear the conversation - then gave a small exhale of a laugh and said, "Correction, Commander Thrawn told me there was a better way I could have used that would have saved all our lives." She glanced back at Thrawn, who gave her a small nod of approval and resumed his conversation.  
  
    "Good," Jing opined tartly.  
  
    "You should like it, Nava, it involves explosions," Nataya teased her, and Jing grinned.  
  
    "Aw yeah, now I _really_ want to hear it!" she declared, to general amusement.  
  
    "Commander Thrawn said he'll show us later. But for right now go on and bathe, you're all sweaty and smelly," she teased her friends, shooing them toward the 'freshers.  
  
    "And you look all clean and perfect before the rest of us even woke up," Sheplin observed with affectionate annoyance.  
  
    "Of course, I had the sense to die first," Nataya responded with a snarky smile and a one-shoulder shrug, which was greeted with the groans and playful reproofs it deserved.  
  
    "That is _so_ not funny," Jing scolded with mixed amusement and aggravation, aiming a playful swat at her head that was more a high-speed hair ruffle.  
  
  
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    As the two noncoms left the medbay, one remarked to the other, "That little redhead is a brave one. I wanna like her, but," he hesitated, "something about her gives me the creeps and I don't know why."      
  
    "Yeah you do," the other responded, sending a dark look back toward the medbay. Turning his head brought his face into the light, setting in sharp relief the dark geometric shapes tattooed there that formed a V across his nose and forehead. "And so do I. But for now she seems to be a loyal Imperial, and that's how we'll treat her. If she turns traitor... she dies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noncom - non-commissioned officer
> 
> First person to identify the noncom gets the next chapter dedicated to them! :D
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider commenting here, and [liking/reblogging the link on tumblr](http://thrawnisbae.tumblr.com/post/169946862618/the-long-game-chapter-three-aaaand-here-it-is)!


	4. "But is he going to help us?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even his protégés don't always understand how Thrawn's mind works, but they'll have to learn fast how to deal with their enemies - and his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter dedicated to Deepseacritter for correctly identifying clone trooper Dogma! Well done, and you will definitely see more of him in future chapters!

 

The briefing first thing the next morning was even less pleasant for the cadets than briefings usually were. That, Li reflected as he slouched back in his chair, was saying something.

"Anek, did you forget you're not in some Outer Rim cantina?" Arrel snapped at him. "Sit up like you've got a spine."

"Yes, ma'am!" Li practically snapped upright in his seat. Even he knew when he'd pushed his luck, and Commandant Arrel had precious little patience with cadet shenanigans. No point using up what little she had on trivialities like not sitting up straight.

Arrel eyed him a bit longer to establish he wasn't out of hot water just yet, then turned back to Rabor. "Continue."

"Yes, ma'am, but there's not much more to tell. I kept firing, trying to prevent them from getting the rocket launcher to bear. The Rebels badly outnumbered me, and surrounded me." And then executed me, she thought, and hoped her superior officers didn't notice her suppress a shudder.

"And then you had the honor of getting blasted by Saw Garrera's group," Arrel continued with dark humor. "Some of the Rebels like to claim high-minded idealism, but that bunch doesn't even pretend to be anything but butchers. The body count of his little gang of killers is estimated in the thousands, possibly over ten thousand. Not just soldiers and officers but cadets, civilian employees, contracted suppliers, anybody who ever associated with the Empire. Now you know his face - he was that ugly krink with the eye patch - so if you ever get a chance to kill that scum, do it. No warning, no fair fight, just take him out. Him and any of his group. They'd do worse to you in a heartbeat just for wearing that uniform. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am!" they chorused with unfeigned emphasis. Although all of them were aware the execution they remembered had only been a simulation, they knew that many Imperials really had been viciously murdered thus by Rebels.

"An' I hope I get to," Li muttered, intending it to be too quiet for the officers to hear, but both of them heard the comment.

"You just might," Arrel said grimly.

"That explains why you've been practicing shooting two-handed," Master Sergeant Dogma addressed Rabor, and the cadet masked her surprise at his unusually pleasant tone. Dogma was a hard case toward all the cadets, but it was hard to miss that he found something especially irksome about Rabor herself. "I thought I was going to have to dock you accuracy points until I noticed you switching hands. You should have gotten permission first so we could add an additional scoring for you."

"Yes, sir. I apologize, sir," she said humbly, trying not to jar his unusually agreeable mood.

"Don't apologize to me," he said with gruff humor that may or may not have been friendly. "You're the one who'll have to pull up your scores again, _I'm_ not doing extra work to fix it. But report to the office this afternoon to get a scoring code added for your other hand."

"Yes, sir."

"You and any of your buddies here who want to do the same," he added, cutting off Jing and Jastrinas who had both started to speak. They closed their mouths and smiled. "And ask Sergeant Crackshot to show you the correct stance for two-handed shooting."

"Yes, sir," she replied, suppressing a smile that he probably wouldn't appreciate.

"All right, if there's nothing else..." Arrel glanced around at Thrawn and the other officers seated at the table.

"A moment please, Commandant," Thrawn requested politely. "I wish to ask my cadets additional questions."

Arrel gave him a curious frown, but nodded. "Go on, then."

"Thank you, ma'am." Thrawn turned to the cadets. "Cadets, do you believe you achieved victory in this mission?"

The cadets glanced at each other, before Rabor finally answered, "We achieved the objective."

"Do you believe you achieved true victory?" There was a moment's pause as Thrawn locked eyes with Rabor.

"No sir, we did not," she answered calmly.

"Cadet Li Anek, when was the moment you lost the chance at true victory?" Thrawn turned his attention to him.

Li didn't answer immediately but shot a quick sidelong glance at Rabor, and when he spoke it was far more subdued than his normal cheerful tone. "When we left N- Cadet Rabor behind."

Thrawn regarded him for another moment then turned to Sheplin. "Cadet Sheplin?"

"Um- when we set off the alarm?" she ventured, and bit her lip uncertainly.

"Correct. Cadet Jing, can you explain why?"

Jing started a bit in surprise, thought about it, and then answered, "We weren't ready for the Rebels' attack. They weren't ready to fight, but we weren't either. We lost the chance to fight from the best position."

"Very good, Jing," Thrawn complimented, then looked around to all of them. "I will be providing each of you with a recording of the simulation. I want you to go over it carefully and report to me every point where you believe your strategy could have been improved."

The cadets murmured subdued _Yes sir_ s.

"You did well, cadets. I am pleased with the progress you've made," he added, gazing around at them. "Continue to advance as you have and you will justify my faith in you."

As one the cadets brightened at his praise. "Yes, sir! Thank you sir!" they chorused crisply.

"Good," Thrawn gave them a slight nod, his face softened with pride.

"Cadets, you're dismissed," Arrel said curtly, and they rose to leave.

"Cadet Rabor, just a moment," Thrawn said, stopping her in her tracks, and she turned to face him. Her companions flicked concerned glances at her and back at Thrawn, but she gave them a small reassuring smile. When they were gone she turned her full attention to Arrel and Thrawn, her posture straight but relaxed, her expression polite and attentive.

Arrel looked at Thrawn, her eyebrows lifted expectantly in thinly veiled demand for an explanation.

"Cadet Rabor, do you remember what I taught you about preserving lives and ships under your command?" Thrawn queried in an even tone.

"Yes, sir," she said smartly.

"Repeat it to me."

"Use whatever advantage or escape you can to preserve your ships and crew," she recited. "Never sacrifice them unless it is necessary for ultimate victory. "

"Very good." Thrawn sat back and lifted his eyebrows politely. "And do you believe you followed that instruction during this mission, Rabor?"

"Sir?" at that her regulation composure slipped a little and she frowned in dawning worry and confusion. "I... I don't understand. My crewmates all survived and escaped, with the shuttle."

"Not all your crew," Thrawn said quietly. "The rule applies to _your_ life as well, Nataya Rabor. With your death the Navy would lose your intelligence, your training, your abilities, your loyalty, everything that makes you a fine young officer. You must not permit that to happen unless there is no other workable alternative."

"I understand, sir," she responded, subdued.

"I am not convinced you do, Cadet," Thrawn said, gazing steadily at her. He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I understand that in your culture, dying in battle in defense of others is considered the most honorable way to die, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"A noble sentiment, but it seems to me that while dying for your people is a noble deed, there is greater nobility in saving your people and living to celebrate the victory." He raised his eyebrows politely. "Do you agree?"

"Sir?" The young woman looked taken aback. "I- I suppose so, sir." The answer was awkward, unconvinced.

"If you are to understand your adversaries' minds and cultures and use that knowledge to best them, you must have the ability to step outside your own culture," Thrawn explained. "It is imperative to a strategist regardless of their origin. You must transcend the strictures and habits in your own reasoning and be able to see from alien viewpoints, to fathom thinking very different from your own. You cannot do that if you are mired in your own ingrained patterns of thought. Do you understand?"

The cadet stared at him silently for the space of a long pause. "Yes, sir, I do," she responded, bowing her head briefly in acknowledgement.

"Good. That is all." Thrawn inclined his head in return, a tiny hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Ma'am, sir, am I dismissed?" Rabor asked.

"Go on, get out of here," the Commandant responded. She rose to her feet but as Rabor left, Arrel eyed Thrawn.

"Just a minute, Thrawn," she said before he could turn to leave.

Thrawn turned to face her, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding her calmly. "Yes, Commandant?"

Arrel waited until the other officers had filed out before speaking. "Stars know I believe in discipline," she folded her arms as she stared at him sharply, "but don't you think you're being a little too exacting on your cadets? They're not even on Command track yet."

"I am teaching them to the best of my ability," Thrawn responded politely, "and they are proving they are equal to the task."

"Thrawn," Arrel persisted with some asperity, "They're cadets and you're training them to command fleets."

"Do you wish me to give them less thorough training?" he queried. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him for any sign of sarcasm. Finding none, she shook her head and sighed.

"Just don't push them too hard. They're barely more than kids," she said finally. "I don't want any of them burning out because you're trying to make strategic geniuses out of them."

"Very good, Commandant. However I feel certain I am not overly taxing their capabilities," Thrawn assured her.

"All right, get out of here," Arrel sighed, but she didn't look entirely convinced. Thrawn bowed slightly and left.

It was just as well, he thought as he left the building, for Commandant Arrel not to know that commanding fleets was exactly what he intended his protégés to do.

 

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When Nataya got outside her friends hurried over to her and surrounded her, matching her pace as she walked back toward her quarters.

"Well?" Li prompted impatiently.

"Well what?" Rabor lifted her eyebrows at him in feigned confusion.

"Well, what'd Bright Eyes want to talk to you about without us listenin' in?" he grinned without a shred of embarrassment at his nosiness.

"He was giving me a polite and civilized lecture about why I shouldn't get myself killed off unnecessarily," Nataya replied, allowing a note of grumpiness to be noticeable in her voice even though she didn't really feel it.

"Good!" Pelli opined, and Li snorted agreement.

"Well, glory to the stars," Jing vowed with frivolous fervor. "Maybe _him_ you'll listen to, because you sure won't listen to us."

Nataya smiled sweetly at her and made an anatomically improbable suggestion.

"Nah, I consider that a team sport," Nava gave her a wicked grin. "Why, you volunteering?"

"You wish," Nataya scoffed, amused. She fell silent then, obviously lost in thought. " _Transcend the strictures and habits in your own reasoning_ ," she murmured absently without realizing it. Her friends exchanged glances behind her, intrigued but silently debating whether to inquire further.

"Let's get started on the mission review," Pzandor suggested, and they turned their steps toward the study rooms.

 

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Less than two days later Sheplin was walking to one of her classes when someone grabbed her by the arm and hauled her behind one of the school buildings. Automatically she twisted her arm free and drew back a fist to slam the assailant, but the male clad in a cadet's uniform lifted his hands, palms toward her to show they were empty of weapons.

"Relax, I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm going to get something out of my pocket to show you, all right?" He watched her warily, and only when she gave an abrupt nod did he reach slowly into one pocket. He pulled something out and held it up in her line of sight: a patch sewn in blue and red in an unofficial design worn secretly and only by one group of students- Thrawn's Crew.

She hesitated and then slowly lowered her fist, but keeping her eyes on him. The male - a fourth year by the look of him - watched her carefully, not attacking but not lowering his guard either.

"My name is Kess Huurlek," he said steadily. "I'm a fourth year. You recognize the name?"

He did look familiar, Pelli realized now that her pulse had slowed and she was looking at his face rather than watching for attack. "Yes," she said tightly, "But that doesn't explain why you're trying to drag me behind a building."

"To warn you," he told her, glancing around and stepping forward, visibly tense. "Word got around about how your group did in the mission simulation."

Pelli frowned in confusion and then shrugged. "Yes, I know Krony's brats are mad about us smoking them in the sim scores. Thanks for the warn-"

" _Not_ just his brats," he cut her off quietly but fiercely. "Krony himself!"

"...what?" Sheplin managed, shocked. Surely an instructor wouldn't be that petty?

"I think you heard me." He glanced off to the side, past the corner of the building and lowered his voice a bit more so she had to lean closer to hear. "You know they're rivals, but do you realize Konstantine _hates_ Thrawn? He never liked an alien getting accepted into the Navy, and now Thrawn has achieved equal rank in a lot less time than it took him. For all his connections at court, Krony knows he can't keep up and someday Thrawn will be giving _him_ orders. That's why he tries as much as he can to sabotage Thrawn. And that's why it didn't take long before the rivalry bled over to us, his little hangers-on trying to take down Thrawn's favored students, and us making them look like the liftless skiffs they are."

"But your team beat his fourth years too. Why is he so angry about _us_?" Sheplin didn't know exactly how Konstantine's third years had done in the test, but it was already well-known around campus that they had been outperformed by Thrawn's team.

"Yes but his fourth years weren't such kriff-ups- they did pretty well. His third years lost nearly half their group- three out of seven - and none heroically. They barely achieved the mission objective, and went over time. And that was _after_ he rigged it in their favor."

"Rigged it?!" Now it was Pelli who glanced around nervously and lowered her voice.

"Every mission group is supposed to have **six** cadets. No more, no less. But there were five in your team and seven in his third year group." He paused, letting the information sink in. "You think cadets could have arranged that?" He straightened, watching her face as she turned over the information in her mind and realized she could find no explanation but that he was right. "Now everyone knows Krony cheated to give his favorites the advantage, and Thrawn's smoked them anyway. He'll be out for all of your team, so be careful."

"I don't understand," Pelli shook her head, aghast. "Commander Thrawn had to know, why would he let that happen?"

"I don't know, maybe he couldn't stop it. My guess is, he knew you'd beat them anyway. But maybe even he didn't expect how badly you'd beat them, and now Krony wants blood. I'm serious," he interjected as Pelli's expression slipped to skepicism again. "Ever since Thrawn made Commander it's been a cold war between them, and this might have just made it hot. And we're in the line of fire." He checked his wrist chronometer. "I have to go, this has taken too long. Tell the rest of your group to watch their backs like Bothan bankers. Don't set a toe out of line or give Krony anything he can use against you."

"I will," she gave a nervous but firm nod, and he nodded back.

"Be careful, Sheplin. Krony's not subtle. When he tries for you it'll be nasty. And you belong in the Navy, all of you."

"Thank you," she managed, and he gave her a final nod and disappeared around the corner of the building.

 

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"Well, _kriff_ ," Li summed up their reaction succinctly after Sheplin finished her story.

"His brats have given us grief before, that's nothing new," Rabor said, though the tension in her expression gave away that she wasn't as dismissive about it as her words seemed.

"Yeah but knowin' Krony's out for blood might encourage them to ramp up their game," Li remarked, unusually grim.

"And that's not counting what Krony himself might try," Pelli mumbled, clearly having thought the matter over more than she wanted to. "How are we going to last here if an _instructor_ is out for our blood?"

"We've also got an instructor on our side, in case you'd forgotten," Nataya lifted an eyebrow at them as if in mild surprise at their lack of faith. "A much smarter one."

"But is he going to help us, really?" Pelli's words challenged, but the look in her blue eyes was thinly veiled pleading for hope. "He didn't help us in the sim thing."

"How do you know that?" Nataya deflected the assertion. "There are only five of us in Thrawn's crew of this year. Would we have done any better for having someone else along - someone we're not used to working with - instead of just us? Commander Thrawn is subtle, he's not obvious like Krony. But he looks out for us, don't doubt that." The others exchanged glances for a few moments, then the fearful tension eased a little. "Of course that doesn't mean we don't need to watch our backs too," she added with a hint of a grin.

"If Krony's brats try anything cute, it'll be _them_ who better watch their backs," Jing replied with an evil little smile. Her friends chuckled appreciatively and agreed.

 

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Thrawn settled the hooded cloak a little more securely over his shoulders and pulled the hood forward to keep his face mostly hidden. Dark glasses already in place to hide his glowing red eyes, he headed into the deeply shadowed alley to meet his 'contact'.

Right on time Jinko was waiting there, keeping a wary eye out for unfriendly company.

"You got what I wanted?" Thrawn asked, intentionally choosing words and grammar far less formal than his normal cultured speech. The rather unkempt man jumped, then saw Thrawn and nodded.

"It wasn't easy to get, but yeah, I got the stuff. Didn't think we had any Pantorans in town," the dealer muttered, giving a sidelong look at the shadows under Thrawn's hood.

"You don't," Thrawn said bluntly.

"Right right, of course." The man took two vials from his pocket and made as if to hand them to Thrawn, but hesitated. "Look, bud, I ain't even gonna ask what you want this stuff for, but if anybody comes up dead I ain't responsible, you get that?" the dealer told Thrawn nervously. Evidently even criminals had their limits.

"No one is going to die," Thrawn assured him quietly, holding out the payment. "And you remember nothing about me or selling this to me, do you understand?"

"Yeah, likewise if you get caught with it," the dealer handed Thrawn the vials with one hand and took the payment with the other.

"Agreed. Good evening." Thrawn turned away and walked into the deeper shadows of the alley.

"Yeah, same to you," the dealer mumbled, walking away. It was a good thing that guy paid well, Jinko thought, because he wanted some weird stuff sometimes. But the guy - Pantoran - whatever - paid well enough to shut up any questions, so Jinko didn't ask any. It was probably better for everyone that way.

 

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If you enjoyed this chapter, please comment here and consider [liking/reblogging the link on tumblr](http://thrawnisbae.tumblr.com/post/171844802628/the-long-game-chapter-4-star-wars)!


	5. The Opening Salvo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet war is starting at the Academy, and Thrawn and his cadets are on the firing line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the lovely ap_trash_compactor for her amazing reviews. I am made of fail about answering reviews, but rest assured I love and coo over all of them! :D

   
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Thrawn walked into the practice range and looked around for his quarry. It was early yet, but the man he sought was a stickler for the rules. He would be here.

Sure enough Master Sergeant Dogma was already in his office, seated at the desk scowling over the holoprojection in front of him. He looked up when he heard Thrawn come in, then shot to his feet and stood at attention.

"Commander Thrawn, sir! I could have come to you if you'd called, sir."

"At ease, Master Sergeant," Thrawn soothed him. "I came because I have need of your assistance in a matter I must attend to this evening."

"At your command, sir," Dogma said without hesitation. From another officer he might have sought more information before agreeing, but Commander Thrawn had earned a higher level of respect from the clone veteran than many Imperial officers ever did. "May I ask the mission?"

Thrawn gave him a subtle but genuinely pleased smile. "Nothing so official yet. Let us say I have suspicions that something untoward is planned to take place on campus this evening, and I would like your aid in putting a stop to it."

Dogma smiled. "Tell me how I can help, sir."

Thrawn explained succinctly, and by the time he was done Dogma's smile had turned colder, with a predatory edge of anticipation.

"Oh, yes, Commander," the clone said with deadly sincerity. "It would be my pleasure to help you put a stop to that."

"Excellent. And would you be so kind as to wear your armor?"

"I'd be happy to, sir."

  
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As the sergeant politely walked his superior officer to the door, he paused near one of the firing range booths.

"Sir, care to try?" he picked up the practice blaster and offered it to Thrawn, handle first as if it was a real weapon.

"Certainly." Thrawn took the blaster, assumed a one-handed firing stance, and when Dogma set the target moving, he fired all six shots in quick succession. Dogma checked the readout of the score. His eyes widened, he blinked and stared at it for a moment, then he looked up at Thrawn with newly heightened respect.

"Acceptable scores, Master Sergeant?" Thrawn asked, with a small smile at the clone's reaction. He placed the practise blaster on the table.

Dogma found his voice. "Very impressive, sir."

"Thank you, Master Sergeant. Until this evening."  
  
A smile started to play at the edge of Dogma's mouth that threatened to become a full-out grin of anticipation.

"Sir, yes sir."

Thrawn gave him a polite nod and left.

Dogma turned away still smiling. A part of him hoped there would be at least a scuffle, because something told him it would be a real treat to see Thrawn in action.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Jing and Li sat semi-lounging on a bench in the quad, each studying the simulation logs on their respective datapads.

"For the life of me I still can't figure out how we triggered that alarm," Li commented, frustration clear in his voice for he had been applying himself to the puzzle for some while.

"Me either," Jing shifted so she was leaning against both the back of the bench and Li's shoulder. "Maybe there was a droid we missed, that was bright enough to keep quiet until we were away and then sound the alarm?"

"I dunno, Rebels usually don't have tech that good. They spend what money they have on bombs and ugly ships. Make yourself comfy, don't mind me," he said drolly. She glanced up at his face, but it was obvious from his amused smile that he didn't mind and was only teasing her.

"Don't mind if I do," she grinned at him and curled up her legs comfortably next to her, and Li placed his arm along the back of the bench behind her shoulder. "You're comfy to lay on."

Li huffed a little, still smiling. "You're lucky I'm a gentleman, with you saying stuff like that."

"You, a gentleman? When did that happen?" she nudged him playfully.

"When you turned your head and blinked. 'Course that doesn't mean I can't be less of one if the lady prefers..." he purred, with the beginning of a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Down, boy, we need to study," she laughed. "Were you always this much of a flirt?"

"Only since I learned to talk," he grinned back.

"Strangely I believe that. But back to business - we scanned for people around, but maybe some kind of semi-sentient pet?"

"What, like those Kowakian monkey-lizards?"

"Not those things, they're too loud..." she began.

"On your feet, cadets!" a barked command interrupted her. The two automatically scrambled to their feet and faced the officer who had given the command: a youngish Lieutenant who they recognized as one of Konstantine's hangers-on. Unfortunately his poor taste in allies did not change that he outranked them and they had to obey his orders.  
  
"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

"Follow me, both of you," he snapped, and started walking without even looking back, busy making notes on a datapad. They gave each other a look of mutual dread, but obediently followed.

  
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The dread only grew worse when he led them straight to Commandant Arrel's office.

"EPC violation, Commandant. I'm recommending they be expelled." Looking mightily pleased with himself, the lieutenant handed over the datapad he had made notes on.

Li sucked in his breath in shock and even the normally calm Jing looked rattled. Expelled? Breaking discipline somewhat, they glanced at each other, each seeing their own startled fear reflected in the other's eyes.

The Commandant did not appear to notice this lapse in protocol as she read the datapad. She skimmed over it, frowned deeply, and scrolled back up, rereading the report carefully from the beginning to the end.

"They leaned on each other," the Commandant stated in a flat voice.

"Yes ma'am, she was leaning on his shoulder," the Lieutenant answered promptly. "And his arm was around her."

"You two-" Arrel looked at Jing and Li. "Get out. And straighten up, I don't want to see either of you in this office again."

"Yes, ma'am!" both answered smartly, feeling as if they'd been thrown a lifeline, and hurried out of the office as fast as they could without breaking decorum.

"You're not going to punish them, Commandant?" they heard the Lieutenant inquire unhappily as they left. The door slid shut behind them but the Commandant's answer was loud enough for the cadets to hear through the closed door.

"ARE YOU JOKING WITH ME, LIEUTENANT?" With the cadets out of the office Arrel let loose her temper in a shouted rant. "A EPC EXPELLMENT FOR KARKING LEANING ON EACH OTHER? MASTER SERGEANT DOGMA WOULDN'T WRITE THEM UP FOR THAT! GET OUT AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT WASTING MY TIME AGAIN!"

Jing and Li scurried out the door from the outer office and safely down the hall before the very chastened Lieutenant could see them, and didn't slow down until they had reached the dormitories.

Once they were safely hidden in their little copse of trees, Li leaned back on a tree and let out a long sigh of relief.

"I think we just escaped the opening salvo," he said, his hands shaking with uncharacteristic tension until he clasped them in front of his knees.

"That fourth year wasn't kidding. Which means there's only worse to come," Jing sighed, rubbing her face with both hands. "We've got to tell the others about this."

  
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Stormtrooper armor was even less suited to hiding in foliage than his old GAR armor had been, Dogma reflected later after nearly an hour of hiding, but he dismissed the thought. He was long overdue for a little more action than teaching random-born cadets to fight, and the prospect of seeing some action tonight was a welcome change.

Dusk had turned into darkness, the pathways they followed oases of light in the dark of evening. The wind rustled the trees overhead, a deceptively soothing sound.

"There," Thrawn whispered, barely audible, and Dogma turned his head in the direction the officer was looking. It was so dark he switched to nightvision to see the approaching group of cadets. How Thrawn had seen them in the darkness with no such equipment was something to investigate later.

Random-borns never quite managed the instinctive solidarity with each other that his vode from the GAR had shared, but Dogma had to admit Thrawn's little groups of protégés came close. As if somehow aware of the danger they walked closer together, the two males flanking the female they walked. She kept a mostly relaxed posture, but Dogma's enhanced night-vision apparatus enabled him to notice the way her gaze flicked around, pausing at deeper shadows and gaps between buildings, alert for any threat. Had Thrawn tipped them off? No, if he had she'd probably be less obvious about her wariness.

The attack came when the cadets were nearly to the point in the path closest to where Thrawn and Dogma crouched. Again the clone was grudgingly impressed, for as the five dark-clad attackers surrounded them the cadets instantly moved to defensive positions with their backs to each other so none could be attacked from behind.

"I _really_ don't think you want to do this," drawled one of the males cadets in a pronounced Outer Rim accent.

In answer the attackers moved in, and the fight was on.

"You saw it?" Thrawn asked in a bare whisper.

"Yes sir, I did. Shall we move in?" he gestured toward the fight.

"Not yet," Thrawn said quietly. "I'll go in first."

"Don't kill him!" the female cadet yelled, drawing Dogma's attention back to the fracas, but he scowled and grudgingly obeyed Thrawn's instruction.

"You will know when to intervene," Thrawn added with a faint smile, then rose and strode out of the dark toward the fight.

"Somebody's coming!"  
"It's the alien!"  
"Get him!"

One of the attackers were already down courtesy of the cadets, and any doubt of the fight's outcome vanished once Thrawn waded in. He feinted toward the closest but then leaped past to take down one of the others, while Rabor took down from behind the one who'd been braced for Thrawn's attack. After that it was over disappointingly quickly, two of them lying still on the ground - probably just knocked out, Dogma thought, while the other three were only barely keeping their feet, surrounded by three angry cadets and their superior officer.

"Explain yourselves," Thrawn said coldly, staring with unnervingly bright glowing red eyes at the one who seemed to be ringleader.

"We don't have to to tell you anything!" the younger man spat belligerently, not bright enough to realize the level of threat he faced.

"I don't think you understand the seriousness of your situation," Thrawn spoke quietly, steadily, but with a hint of menace. "You were witnessed attacking fellow cadets."

"Witnessed by who, you and your alien-loving cadets? It's your word against ours, and nobody's going to believe an alien even if you do have officer's bars!" the male cadet snapped at Thrawn.

Nataya stiffened with momentary shocked disbelief than any cadet would dare speak so to Commander Thrawn. She started toward the malefactor, but her friends grabbed her by the arms to hold her back, Li on one side and Pzandor on the other. She scowled at them but subsided, realizing that it was better for Thrawn to handle this himself.

" _What did you say?_ " Thrawn hissed, low and deadly, and stared hard down at the cadet. The boy instinctively took a step back, taken aback at the sudden fury of the normally calm officer.

"I- I..." the cadet stammered, wide-eyed and thoroughly intimidated by Thrawn's simmering menace. His cohorts moved closer to each other and back from him as if afraid to be too near him while Thrawn was so furious at him.

 _Cowards_ , Nataya thought scornfully. Although, she admitted to herself, Thrawn was _terrifying_ when he was angry; the rage-fueled heightened light of his eyes and the quiet hiss of threat in his tone sent chills down her spine even though she wasn't the focus of his contained fury.

" _I said repeat that, cadet_ ," Thrawn bit out and the boy swallowed hard, staring at him as if the handsome officer had turned into a krayt dragon before his eyes.

"N-nothing, sir," the cadet finally managed weakly. "I'm s-sorry, sir."

"Seems to me I just heard him say he's not officer material," a cold voice spoke from the shadows. Another figure stepped out into the light, large and intimidating in full stormtrooper armor: Master Sergeant Dogma. He removed his helmet and placed it under his arm, and the disrespectful cadet lost several more shades of color. "And I'm inclined to agree."

"Sir-sir, Master Sergeant-" the boy stammered.

"Shut it!" the clone snapped. "You just disrespected an officer, boy. Commander Thrawn'd be within his rights to beat the _shab_ out of you, and don't you think I'd stop him."

"I'd love t'see that," Li mumbled just loud enough for Nataya to hear. She cast him a sidelong reproving look. Inwardly she agreed but that didn't mean it was wise to say aloud, especially with Commander Thrawn and Master Sergeant Dogma within earshot. He smirked slightly, unrepentant.

"Sir," Jastrinas said, and extended his hand to show them his wrist. Locked around it was a pair of binders, the other half hanging open where the attacker had been trying to lock it to his other wrist.

"What the kriff?" Dogma leaned down for a better look at them, and then scowled ferociously as he looked up at Thrawn. "These are Navy-issue. Cadets shouldn't even be able to _get_ these."

"Precisely," Thrawn said coldly.

"So this wasn't just a thrashing," Dogma muttered, his face darkened with anger. "This could bring the ISB down on us." He commanded his men, "Search them! Find the keys to these binders."

Something twinged Rabor's instincts, a sudden frightening awareness of ill-intent mixed with fear, and her eyes widened.

"They're not alone!" she gasped, looking around for the hidden accomplices.

"Sergeant," Thrawn said calmly, a marked contrast to the cadet's tense tone, "signal your men to move in."

"Sir, yes sir," Dogma said with unmistakable relish, and lifted his wrist 'comm to his mouth. "Take 'em."

Stun blasts flashed and there were thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Imperial Academy Security knew their work, Dogma thought with satisfaction as his people emerged from the shadows dragging the stunned would-be attackers into the circle of light. His amusement faded as he looked at their faces, and he bit out a Mando'a curse, his satisfaction evaporated like steam by the heat of his anger.

"Some of these krinks aren't cadets here!" _**How**_ had they gotten onto Academy grounds despite security? "Get them into the brig!" he told his security people. "I don't care if you have to double them up, I want them all locked up now!"

One of the security personnel came forward to hand him the wristbinder key that they'd found and un-gently taken from one of the attackers. Dogma gestured to Jastrinas to approach, and unlocked the binder from his wrist. The boy murmured a thanks and moved away, rubbing his wrist, his attention turning to the others.

Dogma followed his gaze to where Thrawn was standing in front of the female cadet Rabor, examining an abrasion on her hand from the fight. It was a commonplace gesture, concerned but not overly personal, yet Dogma had the inexplicable feeling he was intruding on something private by watching. Perhaps it was the girl's blush when she met Thrawn's gaze, or the softened glow of his eyes as he asked if she had any other injuries.

"I'm fine, sir," she replied, smiling shyly. "Nothing a bacta patch and a little time won't fix."

"I'm fine too, in case anybody cares," one of her companions announced loudly.

She rolled her eyes skyward for patience before turning toward him. "Of course we care, Li, but you're the tough bar brawler, aren't you? So of course _you'd_ get through unscathed."

He folded his arms and pouted at her. "Not when you're stealin' all my fun and not leaving me any to fight."

She gasped in pretended outrage. "I left you plenty of them!"

"You always take the biggest one, though!"

"Here they go," Jastrinas muttered.

"I'm trained to go for the worst threat first!"

They were bickering about brawling? Dogma shook his head, momentarily reminded of discussions between some of his more impetuous _vode_ when they were younger.

"Fine, I will leave you the biggest attacker next time, all right?" she was saying, "On my honor."

"You two sound like you're bickering over desserts," Dogma cut in dryly, then his amusement faded as a darker thought came to him. "Rabor, how did you know about the other accomplices?"

Even in the dark he could see her go paler. "I heard them moving," she said with admirable calmness.

"Really." Dogma didn't even pretend to believe it.

"Rabor's got really good hearing," Li interjected, walking up next to her.

"Yes, very good," Jastrinas too moved closer to his friends.

"I wasn't asking you two," the clone snapped at them.

"It is hardly relevant, Master Sergeant," Thrawn's comment cut smoothly through the argument. "Cadets, get to medbay and get checked out before you retire for the night. Go."

"Yes, sir!" the three walked off together into the darkness, and Thrawn turned to Dogma.

"Master Sergeant, I appreciate your assistance."

"No problem, sir," Dogma said, but he could hear a thread of warning in Thrawn's tone. "Something else, sir?"

"Yes," Thrawn came closer, lowering his voice and meeting the clone's eyes squarely. "I am aware of your antipathy toward the Jedi, but I suggest you remember that by all practical measure, they are extinct."

"I don't see how _that_ is relevant, sir," Dogma bit out, although he knew where it was leading.

"If any of my cadets is removed from this academy because of certain _assumptions_ about abilities she may or may not possess, I shall personally take it _very much amiss_."

"Sir, yes sir," Dogma growled. Thrawn nodded and turned away. When the alien officer was well gone into the darkness, the clone muttered, "So long as it is **you** taking it amiss." Dogma knew the claim that Jedi could only tamper with the wits of the weak-minded, and Thrawn was far from weak-minded, but Dogma remembered too well the kind of damage a Jedi could inflict. Who really knew the truth about how much those damned traitorous Jedi could do?

  
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	6. "I don't have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a brief excerpt from Outbound Flight, by Timothy Zahn. Used without permission under Fair Use terms.

  
  
    Later that night the 'comm in Thrawn's room signaled an incoming message on a secured channel. Thrawn input his code and the screen lit up to show Colonel Wulff Yularen still in his Imperial Security Bureau uniform despite the late hour.  
  
    "Colonel Yularen," Thrawn greeted him with a small sincere smile and a respectful nod.  
  
    "Commander Thrawn, I'm glad to see you're not injured from that attack," Yularen responded. "Our agents are on their way to take custody of the attackers."  
  
    "Thank you," Thrawn replied, and waited. Yularen hesitated, which was unusual for the self-assured head of the Imperial Security Bureau, and Thrawn lifted his eyebrows. "There is something else?"  
      
    "Yes," Yularen said, and sighed. "I don't know if you've heard but that provincial governor on Daralho has taken a turn for the worst and needs to retire early because of his failing health. His assistant governor will run the province in his place for the rest of the term, but she has no intention of running for governor in the next election. So it's a certainty there will be a new governor, and the polls are showing the most popular candidate right now is that anti-Imperial - Dronos Rabor."  
  
    "That is unfortunate." Thrawn nodded, displeased but not surprised.  
  
    "It's just one province on that world, but with the rising unrest there we can't afford an anti-Imperial voice to gain that much exposure," Yularen said grimly. "Would your cadet be willing to help us against this disloyal relative of hers?"  
  
    "I'm certain she will do all in her power to aid the Empire," Thrawn assured him calmly.  
  
    "Are you sure, Thrawn?" Yularen persisted, cautious as always. "The Daralhans hold family to be very important."  
  
    "Indeed they do, but I don't believe she will place that before her duty to the Empire - especially for this particular relation."  
  
    "Meaning there's no love lost there?" Yularen said, his expression easing to marginally less grim.  
  
    Thrawn smiled slightly at the understatement. "No."  
  
    "Good. I've already got agents on their way to investigate that attack on Academy grounds. I'll be there personally as soon as I can."  
  
    "Then I will see you when you arrive," Thrawn gave him a small nod.  
  
    "I'll see you then. And watch your back, Thrawn. This human supremacist group - or groups - are getting more influential in that sector that we expected. Until we find out how they're doing it, they'll remain a dangerously unpredictable factor."  
  
    "I shall, Colonel," Thrawn replied. After they signed off he sat deep in thought for some time.  
  
  
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     _"I'll also stay," Thrass said._  
  
_Ar'alani stopped in mid-step. "What?"_  
  
_"I'm also not under Chiss military command," Thrass said. "And Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano didn't mention me either."_  
  
_Ar'alani sent a hard look at Thrawn. "We'll both be destroyed by this."_  
  
_"The role of a warrior is to protect the Chiss people," Thrawn reminded her. Then he hesitated for a fraction of a moment - why did this feel both familiar and very **wrong**? Yet he continued speaking as if controlled by some outside agent. "The warrior's own survival is of only secondary importance." **No!** his mind cried out, though he gave no outward sign of it. Thrass was not a warrior. He had not chosen this life. This should not cost him his life! Yet... he was only taking the ship away, wasn't he?_  
  
_The conversation had continued while Thrawn was distracted, and Thrass turned to leave. As he walked toward the door the young Jedi apprentice, Lorana Jinzler, fell into step beside him, her plainly made beige tunic and trousers a striking contrast to Thrass's brightly colored and well-tailored robes.  Thrawn frowned. She had not been there, had she?_ A dream _, he realized. Yet this was not how it happened. He had not known then what would happen, had never dreamed this would be the last time he would ever see his brother.  He looked again at the retreating group and tried to cry out after them to stop them but it was if he was paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch in horror as they left. His gaze fell on the young Jedi and his breath caught in renewed shock. Jinzler's hair had been light brown and worn loose, yet this woman's hair was in a braid coiled and pinned up, its color a red so dark that it appeared black in the the dimmer areas between the lights. Just as realization suffused him like icy water draining the warmth from his body, she looked over her shoulder as if feeling his attention._  
  
_"It's all right, sir," The Jedi -_ Nataya! _-  smiled at him. "We'll take care of it." They reached the door and Thrass paused, courteously gesturing for her to precede him. As Thrawn watched helplessly, they vanished. Only when the door closed behind them, Thrawn's paralysis lifted and he ran to the door, shouting desperately after them._  
  
_"Thrass! Brother, don't go! Nataya! Stop! Don't do this! It isn't worth it! We'll find another way! THRASS! NATAYA! COME BACK!" He pounded on the closed door but it remained still, refusing to open._  
  
_A blaze of light through the porthole blinded Thrawn a fraction of a moment before the sound of the blast registered and the shock waves from the sudden explosion hit the door, knocking him off his feet and leaving him on the ground staring in horror at the scorching on the other side of the transparisteel._  
  
_"It's too late, Thrawn," Ar'alani said behind him, softly in contrast to his cries. "You should have been more careful with their lives."_  
  
_"I didn't..." Thrawn gasped, still winded from the impact and from shouting after them, "I never meant..."_  
  
_"I know," Ar'alani answered with that same resigned compassion mixed with condemnation. "But you still did it. You sent them to their deaths."_  
  
  
    Thrawn awoke gasping for breath and tangled in sweat-damp sheets. He threw aside the bedclothes, suddenly unable to bear the weight of them, and sat up and placed his feet flat on the floor. The cold sensation of the surface helped to ground him in the present. His sleeveless sleep top clung clammy and unpleasant to his body, so he pulled it off and wadded it up, used it to mop the sweat off his arms and chest and the back of his neck, and then flung it it toward the hamper. It missed and landed on the floor, but contrary to his usual neat habits he left it there. His hands trembled, and he clenched his fists to stop it.  
  
    He hadn't dreamed of Thrass in months, why had it happened now? And why had Nataya been in it? Surely she had been a small child when that happened- why would his mind place her there, in the guise of that nervous young Jedi who had already been dead when that conversation took place?  
  
    He stood up and stumbled into the 'fresher to splash some water on his face.  
  
      
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    The following morning a chime at his office door interrupted Thrawn's reading. He put down the datapad he'd been reviewing and looked up.  
      
    "You may enter," Thrawn turned his chair to face the desk but angled slightly toward the door just as it opened to reveal Cadet Pzandor Jastrinas.  
  
    "You wanted to see me, sir?" Jastrinas asked. He spoke quietly as was his usual wont, yet there was a thinly veiled caution, or perhaps suspicion, in his eyes.  
  
    "Yes. Have a seat, cadet." Thrawn gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.  
  
    "Thank you, sir." The young man - barely more than a boy, Thrawn thought, even if he had lived a full two decades - settled in the chair, his expression and demeanor cautious. "There is something you wish to speak with me about, sir?"  
  
    "I am concerned about your actions in the simulation, specifically your lack of safety precautions when repairing the shuttle hyperdrive."  
  
    "Pardon me, sir, but Commander Gatheri has already apprised me of my errors in conducting that repair." The cadet phrased his answer politely, but his tone gave his response a defensive edge.  
  
    Thrawn sat back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and lacing his fingers before him, and regarded the cadet. "Your knowledge is not at question here, Cadet Jastrinas. What is at question is your self-control."  
  
    "If this is about Nataya..." Jastrinas began, but a sharp motion of Thrawn's hand cut him off.  
  
    "I am aware of the circumstances leading to your joining the Imperial Navy," Thrawn said calmly. The blood drained from the cadet's face, for it was not widely known the young man had been given a choice between the Navy and prison. "And it did not escape my attention that you had to be stopped from killing one of your attackers last night." When the younger man did not answer, Thrawn continued. "Cadet Jastrinas, you are very talented, which is why I included you among my protégés. However, there will be no place for you in command if you cannot keep control of your emotions - even after seeing your comrades fall in battle." As he spoke Thrawn could see the cadet tense defensively. "Recklessness, whether caused by rage or by grief, can endanger the lives of your crew-mates. That is unacceptable in an officer."  
  
    "So _you_ could have watched her be executed and just gone on as if nothing happened?" the boy snapped.  
  
    "In such situations, grief cannot override concern for your surviving comrades," Thrawn responded coolly. "That is especially true when the fallen one sacrificed themselves to aid your escape. You cannot allow your emotions to render that sacrifice pointless."  
  
    The younger man bridled as if to argue, then abruptly his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. He took a deep breath and held it, and then let it out slowly.  
  
    "Yes, sir," he said finally, subdued.  
  
    "I have lost warriors," Thrawn said in a gentler tone. "Including some I counted dear to me. And I have had to put aside grief in order to continue the battle. I have learned that the best way to honor their courage is with victory in their name; achieve what they fought and died for, and make sure their part in it is remembered. You are fortunate in this instance; Nataya is alive, and you can ask her if she agrees."  
  
    "I don't have to." The younger man knotted his hands together in his lap, fixing his gaze on them as if unwilling to meet Thrawn's eyes. "I know what she'll say. "  
  
    Thrawn chose not to respond to that. "Think on what I have said, cadet. It would be a shame for your talents to go to waste because you could not keep your feelings under control."  
  
    Jastrinas nodded wordlessly, then said no louder than a whisper, "May I be excused, sir?"  
  
    Thrawn would have liked to say more, but he could tell the cadet was distracted by emotion and would not learn anything further even if forced to listen. "You may go."  
  
    The younger man practically ran from the office in his haste to get away. When the door shut behind him and his footsteps receded down the hall, Thrawn allowed himself a small sigh. He had not missed the significance of Jastrinas's momentary flare of hostility. Teaching was never an easy job, but it was even more difficult to guide a student who viewed Thrawn as a romantic rival.  
  
    Thrawn glanced at the chronometer and then rose, gathered his things, and left the office, locking it behind him. He thought of going to the commissary, but the idea of being around the other officers had no appeal for him in his frame of mind. Instead he headed for his quarters, and as he walked he pondered the situation. He knew Cadet Rabor did nothing to encourage the boy's romantic attention but only politely pretended not to notice - ironically, the same way Thrawn handled Rabor's marked preference for him. Jastrinas, however, did not show the same sense and discretion of his classmate to let things bide, but seemed determined to dwell on the matter.  
  
    It was plain to Thrawn what was soon to happen - Jastrinas would make advances on Rabor, she would reject his overtures, and if the boy was foolish enough to show hostility toward Thrawn over the matter then it was unlikely he would accept her refusal gracefully. Nonetheless Thrawn found some relief in the surety that she _would_ refuse; if she returned her enamored classmate's affections, the boy would only become more possessive and jealous over her. No, Jastrinas would have to learn sooner rather than later to keep his emotions in check.  
  
  
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    Thrawn entered his quarters and put down his bag, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing the tension to ease from his body. Without conscious intent he walked to the displays, opened one and took out the bracelet Nataya Rabor had gifted him. Perhaps it would be better for him to wish that she would turn her affection to a classmate, he thought as he examined the piece, but he found that he couldn't. Something in him rebelled at the thought of losing Nataya's high regard, and Thrawn stared at the bracelet as he was forced to question why he felt so. She was sensible enough not to act on her feelings, and he in turn feigned being unaware, yet even so there was some risk of suspicion arising among others because of her affection for him. Why then did Thrawn feel a pang of unease at the thought of Nataya Rabor turning her romantic attention toward someone more attainable to her?  
  
   _Because she sees **me**_. He frowned and pursued that thought deeper. He was surrounded by humans who degraded him and denied his worth as a being, but Nataya viewed him as worthy not only of respect but of her admiration and affection as well. It made perfect sense for the knowledge of her fondness to soothe his wearied spirit. Nevertheless, he told himself that he should not _need_ such validation, nor crave it. He had his purpose. That had to be enough. It **was** enough.  
  
    Rabor and his other protégés were no more than tools to an end. Perhaps someday after they had proven themselves they would become trusted colleagues, but for now they were only materials to be molded into the kind of talented and self-reliant yet trustworthy officers he would need for the war he knew was coming. Anything more than that was impossible.  
  
    However, Thrawn decided, it was useful for Rabor to feel such devotion for him; it strengthened her loyalty to him and ensured that she would make efforts to please him. A romantic relationship with someone else would distract her from the role Thrawn had planned for her, and an effective military commander could not afford to divide attention from their purpose. Until Rabor learned to free herself of that craving for romantic affection, Thrawn would make sure it did not become a hindrance to her duty. Yes, he thought. He would not actively encourage her, but nor would he do more than give the appearance of discouraging her fondness, for so long as it was useful to him. And as for Jastrinas, if the boy made himself a problem, Thrawn would deal with him as one.  
  
    So resolved, he put the bracelet back in the case and locked it and then left the room.  
  
  
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    "Sir? Commander Thrawn, sir!" A youthful female voice called from behind Thrawn as he crossed the campus, and he paused and turned to face the speaker. Cadet Gilsaria Zanedi hurried up to his side, Cadet Keever Monsala hard on her heels, both frowning with concern and practically emanating stress.  
  
    Thrawn glanced between them and lifted an eyebrow politely.  
  
    "May I assume this is regarding the flight team?" he queried, although the very fact of these particular two cadets being so agitated made the conclusion fairly obvious.  
  
    Zanedi sighed and nodded. "Yes, sir. If you have a minute, we need your advice."  
  
  
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    When the third years Thrawn's Crew group gathered that morning between classes, Pzandor Jastrinas was the last to join the group, his expression not his usual tranquil sort of sadness, but instead a scowl edged with sour resentment.  
  
    "Who spat in your dessert, Pzan?" Li asked with his usual cheerful lack of tact.  
  
    Jastrinas glared at him, dropped his pack on the ground and flung himself down against a tree in his usual spot. "Commander Thrawn called me to his office," the young man grumbled, clearly irritated. "To lecture me about being too reckless in the simulation."  
  
    "I thought Commander Gatheri already gave you the engineering safety lecture?" Nataya Rabor asked.  
  
    "She _did_ ," Jastrinas said. "Commander Thrawn felt that more needed to be said." He turned and looked a question at Jing, who gave him a small smile and lifted her arm in invitation. He turned and lay down with his head resting on her knee. Jing rested her hand on his shoulder and rubbed his upper arm lightly a few times. His grumpy expression softened into a small smile which lasted only a few moments before returning to its former dark cast.  
  
    "You gonna share or what?" Li reached over and patted his lower leg in sympathy. "Thrawn doesn't usually lecture unless he thinks it's important."  
  
    "He thinks," Pzandor scowled again, "that I let my emotions overrule my good sense in the simulation and that's why I got hurt."  
  
    Jing, Li, and Pelli shot quick glances at each other in silent indecision as to whether to say what they were thinking, while Rabor glanced curiously between them. Finally Rabor shrugged.  
  
    "Look on the bright side, at least you didn't get the 'Don't be a hero' lecture in front of Arrel and Dogma," she told her friend, trying to cheer him up.  
  
    "I don't think you and I got the same lecture," Jastrinas replied, unwilling to give up his indignation yet. "He told me that I'd be useless for command if I didn't get control of my emotions."  
  
    "I'm sure he didn't phrase it like that," Nataya said soothingly. "And, well, being in command _does_ require being able to keep a cool head. He's not wrong about that."  
  
    Pzandor's narrow-eyed stare said clearly that her comments had not helped. "Of course _you_ agree with him."  
  
    "What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Nataya snapped, irritated by the implication. Her friends had discerned her attraction to Thrawn despite her efforts to hide it, but they usually remained discreet about it save for some gentle teasing when no others could hear. Having it flung at her like an accusation provoked her not-inconsiderable temper.  
  
    Pzandor pulled away from Jing to sit up and slouch back against a tree, scowling. "Nothing."  
  
    "Karking right, _nothing,_ " Nataya spat, not mollified, drawing some startled looks from her friends at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. A touch on her shoulder surprised her from her anger for a moment, and she turned to find Pelli's hand resting there as her friend regarded her with concern. Nataya closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, and then opened her eyes in time to see Li flop down next to Pzandor and take his friend's hand in his, holding it with fond strength.  
  
    "Let's not turn on each other, huh?" Jing said quietly, looking between Pzandor and Nataya, and then reached out and took Nati's hand. Nataya gave her a small smile and tightened her hand affectionately around Jing's for a moment. When she looked back, Pzandor was looking at her shyly though his eyelashes, his brow creased with worry.  
  
    "I'm sorry, Nataya," Pzandor said quietly, and held out his hand across the circle to her. "I had no right to imply... what I did."  
  
   Nataya bowed her head, took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking up at him again. "I forgive you," she responded equally softly, and placed her free hand in his.  
  
    "Cuddle pile!" Jing announced cheerfully, let go of Nataya's hand and bounced across the circle to flop down with her head on Nataya's shoulder. Nataya laughed and put her arms around her friends as Pelli scooched closer to her other side. Li got up to join the group, tugging Pzandor's hand until he too rose and approached. Li shamelessly planted himself stretched out across the females' laps, which they greeted with laughter and wisecracks. Pzandor settled more sedately and gingerly on Jing's other side. Only when she smiled at him did he lean against her and begin to relax.  
      
    All seemed right with them on the surface, but more than one of the young people hid their worry that the harmony of their little group wouldn't last.  
  
    "So when are we gonna talk about the bantha in the bunk?" Li asked, and turned troubled dark eyes to his friends.  
  
    "What do you mean?" Pzandor lifted his head slightly from Jing's shoulder to frown at Li.  
  
    "I think he means," Jing replied quietly, "that Krony doesn't have the guts to organize an attack on Academy grounds like what happened to you. We're facing something bigger and uglier than him and his lackeys."

 

  
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	7. "I will not let them take you,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Thrawn makes his choice between Imperial regulations and his greater objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I try to keep chapters at five to six pages in 10pt font in Wordpad but I didn't think there was a good place to split this one, so you all get a double-length chapter. :D

  
     Later that day at the firing range, Master Sergeant Dogma walked up behind Nataya Rabor as she was deep in target practice.  
  
    "Sir!" she said smartly, put down the practice blaster and turned to face him.  
  
    "Keep firing, cadet," he ordered. "The other hand," he added as she picked up the blaster.  
  
    "Yes, sir." She hesitated only a moment in surprise before she switched the blaster to her left hand, passed the bracelet on her left wrist over the scanner, and took firing position. He waited until she had fired a few shots before speaking again.  
  
    "I was the first clone to kill a Jedi," he said quietly.  
  
    Her next shot missed the target completely.  
  
    "He was a traitor. Intentionally got a lot of his men killed, to sabotage the war effort and out of sheer sadism. So I shot him." Dogma spoke coolly as if on a subject of little importance, not seeming to notice the cadet's reactions. "Then later the order went out and my _vode_ wiped out the rest of those traitorous bastards."  
  
    Rabor put down the practice blaster with enough force to make an audible clank on the counter, then turned to face Dogma.  
  
    "Sir, if there is a point you're making, I'm not quite grasping it," she said with a decent approximation of calm formality despite the slight unsteadiness of her voice.  
  
    "No point, Cadet," Dogma smiled with no warmth. "Just making conversation. The fate of traitor Jedi has nothing to do with a loyal little Imperial like you, does it?"  
      
    "No sir, it does not," she said crisply and a bit coldly.  
  
    "Good. Carry on." A slight widening of his cold smile, and then he walked away.  
  
    In his wake Nataya turned back to the counter and looked at the practice blaster, but her hands were shaking too badly to resume shooting. She put it away and left the firing range, heading straight to her quarters. Once she was safely inside her private space she curled up on her bunk. She didn't cry or make a sound save for her breathing, but she couldn't stop herself from trembling hard for some time after.  
  
  
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    For most of the day Thrawn managed to put the unnerving dream out of his mind, but when the afternoon class came in he instinctively glanced up as each student came through the door until he saw Nataya Rabor enter, chatting with her friends and seemingly unharmed. She met his gaze and automatically smiled at him, then a slight frown creased her brow and her smile faded as she studied him. Of all his students - perhaps of everyone here at the Academy - she was the one most likely to discern when he'd not had proper rest the night before. Thrawn bent his head to his datapad and did not respond to her querying look, but even without seeing her further he could discern her thoughts as if they were his own: she was concerned for him and wished to ask if he was well but knew it was inappropriate and overly familiar to do so in front of her classmates, so she made a mental note to speak to him later if an opportunity arose.  
  
    By Imperial protocol her concern for his well-being was too familiar to exist at all between a cadet and an officer, but Thrawn appreciated her consideration. He was aware that if inclined to selfishness, a young human with a fancy could cause serious trouble for the object of their affection. Fortunately Nataya was not at all like that; she instinctively put the needs of those she cared for above her own wants, so her feelings for Thrawn only made her quietly attentive to his frame of mind and emotional state. She never demanded what she knew he could not give. He could remember none other in his life who showed such caring consideration for him, save for his brother Thrass. _Perhaps that is why she was in the dream with Thrass._  
  
    If so, it was not the only reason. The other, undeniable, reason needed to be addressed as soon as possible.  
  
    His resolve set, Thrawn stood up to begin class with a calm demeanor that gave no hint of his inward unease.  
  
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    "Cadet Rabor," Thrawn summoned curtly later as the class gathered their things and left his classroom.  
  
    "Yes sir?" She turned to him and waited as he gathered datapads into his case.  
  
    "Walk with me," he said, then picked up the case and started for the door.  
  
    She came to his side, lengthening her strides to match his longer-legged gait as they left the classroom and then the building, heading out into the main quad. He chose a path across the campus grounds so that they walked toward one of the administration centers, but his true objective was getting them out in the open as far from the buildings as possible without rousing suspicion.  
  
    The sight of her walking beside him brought back a memory of his disturbing dream: Nataya in the plain attire of a Jedi, with the lightsaber at her hip symbolizing the otherworldly power she possessed. If she had been born a few decades earlier, he pondered, she might have been a Jedi.  
  
     _If she had been born a few decades earlier, she might have died with the Jedi on Outbound Flight- a casualty of my own personally designed weapon._  
  
    No, he corrected the thought. Nataya would not have abandoned the galaxy to join Outbound Flight. She would have stayed to protect the people of the Republic, because that was her nature. She would have fought in the Clone Wars, and if she didn’t die in the war then she would have been murdered with the other Jedi: shot down by the troops she led, or hunted down like a criminal.  
  
     _Now instead she lives in fear of enslavement worse than the physical - having her mind twisted, her personality taken from her, to make her into a pitiless hunter of her own kind._  
  
    He had already made up his mind that he would not let that happen. Her power was too valuable, both controlled and enhanced as it was by her quick wits, her courage, and her loyalty. She could be a vital part of his army in the war Thrawn knew was coming, but until then she had to be kept alive and free of the Inquisitors. She had to learn to use those powers as well, but that was a problem Thrawn would address once the immediate danger was past. The Jedi had numbered in the thousands; perhaps a few had escaped the purge.  
  
    "The school is to have a visitor soon," he said quietly when they were a sufficient distance away from any possible eavesdroppers.  
  
    "Yes, sir?" she prompted, watching him with respectful attention.  
  
    He glanced around seemingly in a casual manner, but vigilant for anyone or anything that might overhear their conversation. "The Grand Inquisitor."  
  
    The color drained from her face so quickly that for a moment Thrawn thought she might collapse, and he tensed, ready to grab her arm to prevent her from falling. However, she merely stumbled and then regained her composure and stood straight again, albeit pale with fear. Only when he was certain she was steady on her feet did Thrawn relax, though he remained alert.  
  
    "Why- why are you telling me, sir?" she made a credible effort at feigning confusion, but she had given herself away and they both knew it.  
  
    "You may keep secrets well from others, Nataya, but not from me," he replied calmly, using her given name so that she would understand this conversation was outside of regulations. He resumed their walk but at a slower pace. A sidelong glance at the cadet found her as pale and frightened if she'd been told she was slated for execution. No, he thought - being handed over to the Inquisitors would probably be worse than a quick death.  
  
    "So you're going to..." she began but trailed off, unable to finish the question. Thrawn knew what she was thinking: as an Imperial officer he had a duty to report any Force-sensitive cadet to school officials.  
  
    "I will _not_ let them take you," Thrawn countered firmly, meeting her gaze with conviction.  
  
    "S-sir?" She was deathly pale and wide-eyed, more frightened than he had ever seen his brave cadet, but as she returned his gaze he saw hope begin to form in her eyes. Such an odd color for eyes, that medium blue-green, yet not unappealing. It reminded him of the seas on Csilla at times when a storm was approaching, when the air was crisp and tingled with power.  
  
    "I have a greater duty," he told her, "and you will be a vital part of it. You and your... talents." The words were cold and rational, but his glowing eyes softened as he held her gaze.  
  
    "What... What will you do?" she asked unsteadily, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. Betraying droplets brimmed from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks, and she turned her face away from him before she wiped them away with a quick, impatient hand. _You don't have to hide your feelings from me_ , he thought, but left it unspoken. Why it had crossed his mind at all was a question for later.  
  
    "I do not understand his abilities as well as I would like, but beyond question you must be kept away from him." Thrawn stopped and faced her, and she too stopped and turned to face him. "I have a plan, but it will require your cooperation and your complete secrecy. Even from your friends."  
  
    "Yes, sir," she whispered, and swallowed hard.  
  
    "It is not a pleasant plan," he warned, with a slight grimace. Dissatisfaction nagged at his mind, a wish that he had been able to come up with something better. He pushed the distracting feeling away.  
  
    Nataya gave an unsteady, morbid little laugh. "Whatever it is, I doubt it's worse than being mind-wiped by the Inquisitors."  
  
    That was true but not much of a distinction, he thought dourly. Nonetheless he gave a single nod in acknowledgement and then explained his plan. She listened attentively, reacting with surprise in a few places, but when he was done she closed her eyes and nodded in a fatalistic fashion.  
  
    "The decision is yours, Nataya," he said quietly.  
  
    "You know what you're asking me to do," she responded softly, glancing at his face and then looking down. It was a statement more than a question, but Thrawn answered nonetheless.  
  
    "I know that it requires a great deal of trust," he said calmly, and watched her as her mind worked through his plan.  
  
    "Yes, it does." She looked away and swallowed hard, her expression laced with the look of a hunted animal.  
  
    "I would not blame you if you do not have that much faith in me yet, but whatever you decide, I will keep your secret. I will not betray you," he assured her quietly.  
  
She blinked at him, her eyebrows lifted in renewed surprise. Then in contravention of protocol she looked him in the eyes, not a quick look but long and searchingly as if she could read the workings of his mind there. Thrawn met her gaze steadily, neither reproving her nor attempting to hide anything. How rare it was for a human to meet his eyes so straightforwardly, he reflected- even his colleagues found his glowing red eyes unnerving in varying degrees, the cadets even more so. Nataya Rabor, however, had never seemed daunted. Was she using her power to read him at that moment? Thrawn knew far less of the humans’ abilities with the so-called Force than he wanted, and much of the information available was of questionable accuracy. Perhaps someday he could persuade Nataya to give him better knowledge of it.  
  
    "I know that you're trying to protect me," she murmured, still worried but with surety under the words. "Even though you're putting yourself at risk if they ever find out you knew." Unconsciously she bit her lower lip lightly and dropped her eyes, fear for him creeping into her expression.  
  
    "That is my concern," Thrawn said with unruffled confidence, "but I do not intend that they will ever learn of it. You must think only of your answer, and let me know of your decision soon. We must begin preparation."  
  
    "Why do I think you've already started 'preparation'?" she managed a smile that looked only partly anemic.  
  
    "Because you have learned your lessons well." He gave her a slight but warm smile in return, which brought a blush of pink to her cheeks. For a moment he wondered if her skin was as warm as its pinkish-beige color made it look. He dismissed the stray thought. "Nevertheless, there is no time to waste."  
  
    "I don't need any time," she said, a little breathlessly. "I'll do it."  
  
    Thrawn had been confident of her answer but as he looked down at her he still felt a measure of relief, and pride in her. He responded to her smile with a microscopic smile of his own, nodded in acknowledgement and then looked toward the buildings ahead of them. "Now calm yourself, and we will discuss the plan. Listen very carefully." To his relief, Rabor's color returned as he explained and she schooled her expression to calm before anyone else saw her. They resumed their walk.  
  
    "Do you understand, cadet?" he asked as they got back onto the duracrete walkways in front of the buildings.  
  
    "Yes, sir. I'll do as you instruct," she replied as calmly as if he had been talking about classwork.  
  
    "Good." Thrawn took from his case a datapad which he handed to her.  
  
    She accepted it and gave him a businesslike nod. "Thank you, sir. Good day."  
  
    "Good day, cadet," he responded, and watched for a moment as she walked away. He turned back toward the building, outwardly calm and passive but inwardly satisfied and busy making plans.  
  
  
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    Later that day as the third year Thrawn's Crew sat relaxing in their small clearing, a sudden rattling of branches signaled someone entering their spot. All the cadets tensed, fixing their gazes on the spot where the sound came from. The intruders emerged from the brush, but rather than the disapproving officers or noncoms the third-years expected, it was a pair of cadets who came into their midst. The friends exchanged quick glances and then turned their eyes back to the newcomers, watching them with wary caution.  
  
    In the lead was a slim, tallish female, with dark eyes, a warm medium brown complexion, and black hair pulled back from her face to fall in a fluffy cascade of small curls past her shoulders. The male cadet behind her was taller, also dark-eyed but with skin of a deep tan color and straight black hair pinned up at the back of his head.  
  
    "Hi," the female cadet said dryly, glancing around at the wary third years watching her. "Gilsaria Zanedi, fourth year. This is Keever Monsala. And you're Thrawn's third-years, right?"  
  
    Pelli slanted her gaze toward Nataya, who gave a look back. "Yeah, that's us," Pelli addressed the older cadets. "So why are you here?"  
  
    Zanedi laughed. "Friendly. I don't blame you though. Relax, he's the one who sent us. We're his 'crew' too." She turned her attention to Sheplin. "I believe Kess had a talk with you about a certain mutual hazard that we thought might be more aimed at you?" At their lack of response, she added, "Krony?" in a prompting tone.  
  
    "I take it this isn't just a social call?" Jing cut in succinctly, far less casual than was her usual wont.  
  
    "No. Mind if we sit?" Gilsaria gestured at the ground at the base of one of the trees.  
  
    "Sure, pull up some grass," Li replied, though not as easily as he might have otherwise.  
  
    "Thanks." Zanedi said. She and Monsala sat down, choosing spots that made them part of the circle with the already seated cadets. "So I'll skip the chit-chat and just tell you: Krony's come down on us too. Fabricated some charges against four people on our flight team, and they're groundlocked as long as the charges stand. We're confident it'll get cleared up, but possibly not before the flight exhibition this month."  
  
    "So you're out of the show?" Pzandor asked.  
  
    "That's what they're trying to do," Zanedi replied and scowled, then made a disgusted face. "Or worse, make us take some of Krony's brats on our team, which is _not_ happening."  
  
    Li, who had visibly perked up at 'flight team', leaned forward, his attention laser-focused on the two older cadets. "An' where do we come in?"  
  
    "Down, boy. Only fourth-years can be on the flight team," Jing told Li, who frowned at her.  
  
    "About that," Gilsaria smiled smugly. "We spoke to Commander Thrawn and he pointed out something useful in the rules: only fourth-years can be full-fledged members of the flight team, but in exceptional circumstances third-years can fly as substitutes." She paused and watched the younger cadets react to that; Li most of all as he practically vibrated with excitement. "We have one backup but we're still three pilots short, and we'll take third year Thrawn's Crew over Krony brats any day. Commander Thrawn says he'll take care of the arrangements." She chuckled wryly. "Knowing him, he probably did it before we even went to talk to him." Her quip prompted fondly amused smiles from the third years. "So? What do you say?" She looked around at each in turn but settled her gaze on Rabor and she lifted her eyebrows, awaiting an answer. Rabor gave a lifted eyebrow in return, glanced around at her friends, then looked back to Zanedi.  
  
    "All right, I think we're in," Rabor said.  
  
    "Ultimate," Zanedi grinned. "So, who's your best pilot?"  
  
    "Li," the others chorused without hesitation. Li tried (and failed) to look humble.  
  
    Zanedi turned to Li. "I think I've heard about you. Aren't you the hotshot flyboy from the Outer Rim?"  
  
    "Well, you could say I know my way around ships," Li shrugged with another attempted-humble look.  
  
    "Oh stop it, Li," Jastrinas spoke up, his well-modulated voice laced with tolerant annoyance. "You wear humility like a Gamorrean wears a ballgown." He turned to address the fourth years. "He is a very good pilot. The best."  
  
    "Glad to hear it," she grinned in approval. "So are you in?" she asked Li.  
  
    " _Fusst_ yes!" he enthused.  
  
    Zanedi gave him a sidelong look of mild disapproval. "You talk to your mama with that mouth?"  
  
    "Who d'ya think I learned it from?" he grinned, unabashed. At Zanedi's look he released a theatrical sigh. "All right, all right, for this I'll be a gentleman," he allowed with feigned resignation.  
  
    "Glad to hear it," The fourth-year gave him another look from the corner of her eyes, and then glanced over the others. "Who's your second best?"  
  
    "Wait,” Jing interjected, looking at Zanedi. "Do you need three singles, or a single and a pair?"  
  
    "Actually, we could use a good pair of wing-guards," Zanedi replied, frowning slightly in curiosity. "Why?"  
  
    "Then Sheplin and Rabor should go." Jing gestured at the other two females. Monsala raised his eyebrows and studied them with more interest.  
  
    "Jing," Rabor objected, "You're a better pilot than either of us. You should go." She intercepted a mild glare from Sheplin and shrugged. "Sorry, but she is." Sheplin pulled a face but said nothing.  
  
    "True, but you two are still good and you wing-guard each other like you were born wing-to-wing," Jing folded her arms, regarding them with a half-smile as if she had already won the disagreement. "Besides," her smile widened into a smartass grin, "I don't want to. Crowds make me shy."  
  
    Her friends greeted that comment with snorts of playful derision and eyes rolled heavenward.  
  
    " _You_ , shy. Right. I'll believe that when I see it," Li remarked, to general amusement, and Jing laughed shamelessly.  
  
    "You've been pretty quiet," Monsala spoke up, looking at Jastrinas.  
  
    "I fly if I have to," the younger man shrugged, unconcerned. "But I'd rather let them do it."  
  
    "Pzandor is our gunner," Rabor said, smiling at him. "He can shoot a bug off your wing without scorching your paint." Pzandor blushed as he looked down and mumbled something about how that wasn't true, but wasn't quite able to hide his smile. Monsala glanced at Rabor, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before looking back to Jastrinas.  
  
    "Ultimate," Zanedi pronounced it. "Next practice is tomorrow afternoon, an hour after last class. Be ready to work, because we don't have much time before the show."  
  
    "See you there," Rabor said. As her friends echoed parting salutations, Zanedi waved and walked back into the trees to leave. Monsala started to follow, then looked over his shoulder and gave them a cheeky wink before following his captain out of the clearing.  
  
    "Well, that was unexpected," Jing remarked dryly.  
  
  
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_Darkness, and screams. The screams were terrible, distant but coming from all around her and she knew that even if she tried to follow one to find the person making that awful sound, she'd find only a corpse. So many screams, people dying all around her in the dark, and she was helpless to stop it._  
  
_She sank to her knees, hands over her ears to try to block the sounds, but she couldn't shut them out._  
  
_"Help them, please help them, they're dying!" she sobbed, her body shuddering with the horror of it. "I can't help them! They're dying and I can't save them!"_  
  
  
    "Nati! **_Nati!_** " The feeling of hands on her shoulders brought Nataya to wakefulness and she opened her eyes to find Pelli leaning over her, her expression concerned and a little frightened. "You were having the nightmare again."  
  
    Nataya sat up hastily, gasping for breath, trying to still her trembling. A slight breeze made her aware that her face was wet with tears.  
  
    "You really had me scared that time, Nati," Pelli said, her brow knotted with worry and keeping hold of Nataya's shoulders.  
  
    "It's just a nightmare. Everybody has them." Nataya shrugged, trying to look unconcerned, but her friend knew her too well to be fooled.  
  
    "Most people have nightmares about getting chased by monsters, or falling off cliffs, or getting pushed out an airlock without a spacesuit. What you have is something different, hon." Pelli pulled up her legs in front of her and wrapped her arms around them, looking solemnly at her friend.  
  
    "It's not that important." Nataya stood and began straightening the bedclothes, mostly to avoid Pelli's watchful eyes.  
  
    "Krayt spit," Pelli riposted bluntly.  
  
    "Pelli!" Nataya paused from her task to turn and glare at her.  
  
    "I mean it. You're one of the most grounded people I've ever known, Nati. I've never seen anything mess you up as badly as when you have this dream. Maybe you should talk to someone about it."  
  
    "There's nothing to say," Nataya quashed that.  
  
    "Nati, I know just from what you say out loud when you're having the dreams that you probably went through something awful, something that might've broken other people," Pelli protested. "You can't keep that bottled up inside."  
  
    That stopped Nataya cold. "I- said things out loud?"  
  
    "Yeah, you did." Pelli bit her lip, studying her friend. "'They're dying. Please help them, they're dying. They're killing them. I can't save them.'" She tightened her hands around each other until her knuckles turned white. "What did you live through?"  
  
    Nataya turned her back to her friend and rubbed at her face, trying to erase all signs of the dream's effects on her. "I didn't - exactly... I mean," she began and then stopped, realizing that the very knowledge of it could be incredibly dangerous. "I can't explain, Pelli. I'm sorry, but I can't."  
  
    She was sure that her friends suspected her secret, but suspicion was not confirmation. As long as she never told them, they could truthfully say they didn't know.  
  
    If she got caught, that might be all that would keep them alive.

 

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